CONCIOUSNESS
So one time, at band camp...wait, what? Ok, let's try this again. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially when one is over 60. Brain cells deteriorating fast! DAMN!
In a galaxy far, far away...huh? God am I confused or what? Gotta hit the reset button so the computer works again. Give me a moment. Although this may be closer to the truth and not too far from reality. After all, what is reality?
Ok, here goes.
So I have been taken aboard a craft. At least I would assume it is a craft as that is what it looks like. I am laying in a chair that kinda is a cross between a dentist chair and a recliner. I am inclined back staring straight ahead but I also have the ability to raise my head slightly so I can glance around the room with my peripheral vision. It's like the most comfortable chair I have ever been in and I am extremely relaxed. At least my body is. The chair itself is made out of some sort of white gel foam substance and it feels like I am floating in air. I am feeling like I am floating partly because it is so comfortable, and partly because it seems to be able to monitor my body temperature and matches my body temperature exactly. So the combination of the material and temperature regulation gives me the feeling of weightlessness and I am feeling like I am suspended in mid air.
I raise my head and glance around the room. The whole room, walls, ceiling, floor, all are like made from something that resembles a polished silver or chrome. Everything is like a shiny metal and there is light emanating from somewhere because the room is lit up but I can't tell where the source of the light is coming from.
Off to the left side of me and suspended from the wall is an old fashioned analog wall clock. It doesn't seem to be working though as the second hand isn't moving. It reminds me of the clocks that were in all the classroom schools in the sixties and seventies. At the time I really didn't pay any mind as to why it would be there, even though it seemed way out of place.
To the right side of me, and slightly behind the chair, there was a metal table which looked like the same type of metal the room was made of. On top of it was a writing pad with a pencil next to it, along with an old fashioned alarm clock with the clapper bells on top. One of the old ones that never kept accurate time that you would have to wind up so the clapper would hit the bells and wake you up when the time was right. Other then that, the room was bare.
To this day I have no idea why these items were a necessary function of the training exercise I was doing. But they were there and present the whole time.
Between the back of the chair and the table was my grey instructor. (I call him my instructor. He has been with me before I was born and has been present in various ways, more notably through my childhood.) Now his thoughts echo in my head in a monotonous and annoying manner to which I am really getting irritated by.
Straight ahead of me and about twenty feet away there is a metal column which extends vertically from the floor to the ceiling. In the middle of the column and directly in my line of sight there is a bullseye target attached to the column. It is the same thing you would see at a gun shooting range for target practice. A red bullseye surrounded by concentric white and red circles. As I understood, and as I was instructed to do so by the grey, it was my job to focus on the bullseye and give it my full intention. So this was what I was doing.
It went something like this as his thoughts popped into my head:
See the target,
Feel the target,
BE the target!
With a hard emphasis on BE the target. At that point I would jump my consciousness outside of my body and attempt to hit the bullseye. Sometimes I could tell I was jumping five or six feet out of my body, other times a mere few inches. After every attempt there would be a couple of moments of relaxation where I would feel his re-assurance, always in the form of : "very good, very good!" His positive assurance did little good after awhile because I was getting frustrated and quite frankly annoyed, then just pissed at this whole exercise in futility.
This went on and on and on. I am not sure how long but it seemed like hours and nothing seemed to be changing. Just an exasperated series of repeated failures with little to no results to show for all of my efforts. Still, his robotic and consistent thought kept running in my head with a tiring consistency.
ENOUGH! ENOUGH ALREADY! I AM SICK AND TIRE OF THIS FUCKING EXPERIMENT!
I thought to myself after another failed attempt.
HE WANTS ME TO BE A TARGET! I'LL GIVE HIM THE FUCKING TARGET!
With that I used all the anger I could muster and slammed my consciousness into the target at a surprising strength and hit the bullseye full force.
FUCKING TARGET MY ASS!
But what happened next really surprised me. My anger immediately dissipated and I found myself floating as one with the craft I was on. I held my place with the craft briefly while I tried to process what it was I was feeling. There was no emotion, only a oneness with the ship. I could feel the ships consciousness. And the ship could feel mine as well. I knew that it was alive and that it had purpose. It had consciousness. It had awareness and it knew what its purpose and design was for. It could actually communicate with me and I could communicate with it. I don't think it had a soul as a human being would associate a soul. But it was alive. And its purpose was to communicate with the occupants, whomever they were, and to monitor life functions and to provide for safety. You could link into the ships 'mind' if that is what you want to call it as it was not a computer, and directly communicate with it with your intent alone. I then understood life is nothing like a human being perceives it to be. Even those things which appear dead, such as a tree in the forest, even though it is ready to tumble, has life in it. Life is a convoluted thing and various greatly depending on ones state of existence.
Eventually, after a really quick connection with the ship, I was brought back into my body to a real commotion in the room. The clock on the wall had the hands spinning out of control while the alarm clock on the counter was ringing so hard I thought the clappers were going to fall off. The paper pad and pencil flew off of the shelf and I could feel the poor greys thoughts pounding in my head in a frantic effort to gain my attention.
VERY GOOD! VERY GOOD! VERY GOOD!
I came to conclusion that I had probably finished my training for this exercise.
With that I blacked out and I came to when I could feel my body bouncing on my bed. This was so powerful that for the next couple of weeks I could actually, with concentration and focus, move a pencil around on a table top. Eventually that ability stopped as the experience wore off and life returned to 'normal'.
So one time, at band camp...
