Eyes Open: My Life Between Astral and Physical Worlds

What hundreds of out-of-body experiences taught me about surrender, trust, and divine design.

I first read about out-of-body experiences in a book on my parents’ shelf by Robert Monroe. The idea fascinated me, though I never expected to experience it. Then it happened. I was twelve. I woke in the middle of the night to find myself peeling away from my own body —like two pages of paper stuck together with wet glue. When I reached up to scratch my face, my hand went straight through it. I realized I was both in my bed and hovering above it. That was my introduction to an unseen world —startling and impossible to explain.

At fifty-four, I learned to live beside that mystery. Science calls it an anomaly of the brain; mystics call it the soul remembering. To me, it’s a quiet invitation from something sacred that refuses to fit inside a theory.

Learning to Navigate the Unseen

I can slip through walls, windows, fabric – seeing every thread or material as I pass. Iron walls seem to stop me, grounding me in a way I can’t explain. But when I’m trying to leave my body and find myself half in and half out, I’ve learned to call for help, and invisible hands reach down to pull me free.

Many times, when I leave my body, everything is black. I call out, “Eyes open,” and then a single circle blooms wide in the center of my forehead, illuminating the world around me. I assume it’s the opening of my third eye.

When I ask to go somewhere specific, I feel myself pulled through a tunnel where streaks of light fly past me until I drop down into that space, sometimes another home, sometimes a landscape I’ve never seen. When I want to return, I simply say, “Back in my body now,” and I’m immediately there. Other times, I run out of what I can only describe as “energy” and feel myself being pulled back into form.

I’ve felt rain pelting against my skin while flying above rooftops or soaring high enough to see mountains and treetops. I’ve heard my name called from somewhere, and I’ve met beings—some angelic, some human forms, and even animals. Some recognize me, some do not. Oftentimes, they will give me messages or written notes in other languages that my mind can’t comprehend, but I believe my soul does. 

There are rules there, too. I can’t simply “spy” on people I know, and I cannot intrude. But if permission is granted, I can see. Once, I found myself standing in the home of a couple I knew well. It wasn’t their earthly house, but rather a sacred reflection of it. However, they were standing in different rooms, with the door closed between them. Weeks later, I learned their relationship had fallen apart. They said, “We aren’t connected anymore.” Experiences like this teach me that our soul bonds loosen and break or strengthen and grow in the unseen long before this visible world. 

Journeys of Light and Shadow

In my early years of astral projection, I was afraid. I’d feel sticky shapes and shadows attach to my astral skin —biting like fire ants, and I would peel them off. I learned later how to call in light, to surround myself with gold and violet energy every day and night, and I never experienced that again. This is now a daily practice of mine. 

One night in my late 20s, after a painful breakup, I set an intention to visit my ex in the astral world. I landed in what looked like a convalescent center with furniture and rooms. Angels stood behind a reception desk, calm and radiant. They told me gently, “He’s no longer here. He doesn’t need this place anymore.” Then they led me through corridors lined with rooms where souls were healing. Some were bent over in deep grief; others trembled in silent despair. One woman with a burned face rocked a dead infant in her arms, weeping. Another lay curled in a bed of light, her spirit aching with heartbreak. “They’re alive on Earth,” an angel whispered, “but this is where their spirits come to mend.”

Another time, through astral projection, I visited a friend’s infant who’d been in the hospital for two years awaiting heart surgery. In the corner stood a vast being with immense black wings—watchful and loving. I knew it was the angel of transition, waiting as the child’s soul decided whether to leave or to stay. The baby chose to stay. The angel never acknowledged me; I was only an observer, permitted to witness but not interfere. 

And sometimes, I’m offered flying swings —beautiful wooden discs I can sit upon as they carry me through lands I’ve never known, gliding between realms.

These experiences don’t happen in sleep but in that fragile bridge between worlds – a phenomenon described by The Monroe Institute as the threshold between waking and dreaming. Often, I wake up in what feels like paralysis, my body frozen while my mind awakens. For years, I fought it, straining with every ounce of strength to move until one day I realized – I’m not asleep, but I’m not awake either. This was the threshold. The moment I surrendered instead of resisting, I discovered I could consciously leave my body. 

Science continues to explore this phenomenon through the lens of neurology and psychology. Recent findings from UVA Health propose that OBEs occur infrequently—often once or twice in a lifetime—and are commonly linked to trauma, stress, or neurological factors. My life stands as the opposite of that data. These experiences have happened hundreds of times, spanning decades, without trauma, illness, or any trigger I can identify. I don’t fit the “rare, stress-induced” profile that science describes. For me, the unseen world has always been less of an escape and more of an educational space of remembrance, guidance, and healing.

Science calls it a glitch; mystics call it a portal. I honor both. 

What the Mystery Has Taught Me

I have searched for explanations—brain-wave studies, lucid dreaming theories, near-death research—but none contain what I’ve lived. Mystery has its own divine order, and I’ve learned to honor the sacred rhythms beyond our control. For me, it means surrendering my need for certainty and bowing to the unknowable, trusting that the creator is all around us. 

Lessons echo through my work as a healer, author, and hypnotherapist, reminding me that the unseen world is never far away—it’s right behind the curtain of ordinary perception, waiting for us to open our eyes. 

Just set your intention, call in the light, ask for angelic help—and say, “Eyes Open.”

TAKE ACTION: Set your own intention, call in the light, and explore the unseen with guidance from Julie Edmonds. Learn more at HealingLifeTherapy.