The Nagualist Newsletter and Open Forum / Issue 3 October/November 1994
Copyright 1994 by Nagualist Newsletter, all rights reserved. Individual submissions by readers and staff of the newsletter are also protected under copyright law. No portion may be reproduced without the written permission of the Nagualist Newsletter and of the individual who made the submission. Additional copies may be available at no charge.


Sometimes there really are monsters in your closet.

Ever since I was three years old I never believed I was just a human being. Lying in my bed I would endlessly repeat my name over & over, frightened and amazed that I was "stuck" in this small body. I used to watch my parents, who loved each other, "hurt" each other, only because they wanted attention. I thought it was stupid.

Finally, when I was five years old, my mother got mad at me for not cleaning my room. Actually, my room was clean but she was mad about something else and her anger came out to me. I got frustrated (yes, five year olds can get frustrated!) and decided I was going to be LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE. I even said it out loud.

That night I woke up in bed and standing in my closet was a white, glowing man. When I looked at him, he came over to me and "grabbed my stomach." I started screaming and my mom came in and carried me out into the hall, where I must have eventually fallen asleep in her arms.

When I was 23 Castaneda published "The Second Ring of Power" and when I read about the "Mold of man" I got so scared I slammed the book shut. I saw him again that night, in my dream. He was standing in the shadow of a small tree. He beckoned me towards him and I got scared again and woke up....

Source: Atlantic Beach, FL

Dream spy.

I clearly have memories of observing my parents playing bridge with the neighbors in our living room while I was "asleep" in my bedroom. Although they couldn't see me, I recall feeling that at some unconscious level they could sense my presence. A long hallway with a door separated the bedrooms in our home from the living room, and I remember often requesting that that door be left open, promising that I'd keep the door to my bedroom shut. My parents, no doubt, felt this was a typical childhood request born out of insecurity, fear of the dark, etc., and it was to some degree, only now I realize that, in addition, I found navigating my non-ordinary perception easier when the hallway was partially illuminated by indirect light from the living room. More than once I remember being on the verge of discovering something transcendental about myself in that hallway, only to suddenly awaken in my bed. There was just no basis for understanding such matters at that time and place. Just writing this letter has been cathartic, because just now I was struck by the memory of how unusual my perspective was in that hallway during these experiences, and of how my vision had an effervescent quality to it. This immediately reminded me of Taisha's description of the hallway in the sorcerer's house when she attempted the "crossing" with Nelida, of how the air "bubbled."...

Source: Otisville, NY

High fever.

...When I was four, I was sick with measles. At one point I ran a very high fever; over 104. My mother bathed my face with an ice-cold washcloth. At the height of the fever, I left my body and floated near the ceiling of the room. I saw my body lying limp and red. I watched my mother bathe my brow. I saw sunlight struggling to creep around the edge of the pulled-down window shade. I thought of how long it had been since the last time I had floated free from my body (I guess we're talking about babyhood, at this point, for I have no specific memory of floating freely before the fever incident). Finally, I thought that if I did not return to my body, it would eventually die, and I would have no place to be in this world, and I too would die.

A year of so later, I fell from our family car while it was traveling around 55 or 60 mph. It was winter and I had on a heavy wool coat. The coat kept me from being chewed to pieces as I tumbled alongside the highway on the gravel shoulder. I must have rolled like a bowling ball -- the image in my mind was of a twirling tornado. Every two or three weeks, for several years afterward, just as I was about to fall asleep, a huge rotating donut would descend from space and try to carry me off. Several times it succeeded in carrying me up and away. A couple of times, when I later returned, I thought I had met beings on the other side of the spinning...

Source:Withheld by request.

Earth Motherdaughters.

...I think forever in my dreams I've met with angelic beings. I've always dreamed that I could fly to other worlds with different skys. When I was four years old in bed I saw my first luminous egg. Years later my daughter said out of the blue that it was me checking up on you. She said the other realms are like dreams and she described my four year old bedroom scene. Before she was born we dreamed together again and she said her life would soon begin and that she had lived long ago in a big city in Mexico and wondered why we don't take the time to remember all our other lives, charge loving energy as we touch the earth, the real mother from witch your cells received birth. You're the earthmother daughter you create every day by making loving-floating-peaceful-good things happen every day by dreaming-power-connecting you control the earth and time maybe a gorilla body but with an angelic-computer like mind!

Source: Greenville, MS

Editor: This particular reader writes in poetry, even when simply requesting to be on the mailing list.

Child in flight.

It was a clear summer day with just a few fluffy cumulus clouds floating across the pure blue. I was a five year old kid playing in a patchwork of suburban yards and fields on the east coast of the US.

On this particular afternoon, I was running around by myself with arms outstretched, pretending to be an airplane. I was content just watching the explosion of greenery, the buzzing insects, and the dancing butterflies, when suddenly a feeling of pure joy surged through me, and I shot up in the sky.

I looked down and saw the roofs of houses, but it never occurred to me to look for my body. I don't remember coming back to it, either. But this experience always stayed with me, even after the rest of the world closed in.

Source: PA

Monster under the blanket.

As a child I was a massive sleepwalker. One time I actually got up in the middle of the night and cooked something in the kitchen, perhaps brownies. In the morning everyone wondered why the oven was on. I would often wake up in a different bed than I had gone to sleep in, or wake up on the floor in my own room. My earliest memory of a strange episode was one where a blanket on the floor in my bedroom kept creeping towards the bed while I slept. I was asleep and only vaguely aware of it. It scarred me, but I was too young to get up and leave. Finally, something pounced on me from under the blanket and picked me up and shook me. I'll never forget that hideous face and how fiercely it shook me. It was not an ordinary dream at all. Perhaps this experience set the stage for my sleep walking and the other strange effects in my dreams over the years. It was common for me to wake up from a dream and find images or people from it still floating in the "real" world. I would panic and shake myself or jump up and down to force them to leave. One time the image of my father, sitting in his armchair downstairs, hovered above my bed for many seconds. I got up and verified that he was sitting downstairs in the same pajamas I had seen. I used to lay awake before sleep and watch for a purple mist that would form above my bed. I was convinced that it lead somewhere. I asked the rest of my family how to make use of it, but they dismissed it. Another experience I commonly had was one where I would first "see" gray ripples, then black and white snow (like on a TV), then my head would "expand flat", and then get "real skinny", and then the cycle would repeat. If I kept following it, I would end up as a dot in a tunnel of water or vapor moving rapidly down to a destination that could only be described as chaos. I believed at the time (8 years old) that the destination was "birth" and that I was remembering being born. As an older child, I would blank out while looking at the patterns on wallpaper. One time my mother grabbed me and said "don't scare me like that!" Eventually I gave up on such things because no one else considered them worth anything. When Carlos' books came out, I was hooked instantly.

Source: CA

Nagualist Newsletter and Open Forum / Issue 3 Oct./Nov. 1994