01-23-2012, 12:52 AM
This is among my very oldest memories, from when I was 2 or 3: I would lie down under the covers and, almost as soon as I closed my eyes, I would be viewing a wall with big pipes running along it, horizontally. I would hear a whining sound which now I would describe as a large motor. Then my view would pan toward the right and I would feel so much fear at what I would see that I would jerk myself awake. It might then repeat once or twice with the same thing happening.
One night I told my dad that I didn't want to fall asleep, and he asked me why. I said, "Because the pipes are so scary." He said, "What pipes, honey? What are you talking about?" I instantly decided that I couldn't talk about it, probably because at that age I didn't have the vocabulary. So I said never mind, it's nothing.
The same thing kept happening, but I don't remember if it was every night in a row; probably not. I did figure out that I always woke up in my bed and it was quiet, so the pipes were not real. I decided that I would wait and see what was over to the right, and not jerk myself awake. Sure enough, the vision began and I waited for the pan to the right. I was conscious of this being my chance to see something new, but the more to the right the view went, the greater came back the fear and I had to jerk myself away from it.
That was probably the last time I had the vision.
After I remembered those times as an adult, I decided that either I was in a submarine or in an underground utility tunnel, and probably lost my life there. I was born very close to the end of World War II, so maybe it really was a submarine where I died. Of course I could have been under the deck of any kind of ship, too.
I think I remember Michael Newton saying that soldiers often return quickly after a war death.
One night I told my dad that I didn't want to fall asleep, and he asked me why. I said, "Because the pipes are so scary." He said, "What pipes, honey? What are you talking about?" I instantly decided that I couldn't talk about it, probably because at that age I didn't have the vocabulary. So I said never mind, it's nothing.
The same thing kept happening, but I don't remember if it was every night in a row; probably not. I did figure out that I always woke up in my bed and it was quiet, so the pipes were not real. I decided that I would wait and see what was over to the right, and not jerk myself awake. Sure enough, the vision began and I waited for the pan to the right. I was conscious of this being my chance to see something new, but the more to the right the view went, the greater came back the fear and I had to jerk myself away from it.
That was probably the last time I had the vision.
After I remembered those times as an adult, I decided that either I was in a submarine or in an underground utility tunnel, and probably lost my life there. I was born very close to the end of World War II, so maybe it really was a submarine where I died. Of course I could have been under the deck of any kind of ship, too.
I think I remember Michael Newton saying that soldiers often return quickly after a war death.