How we fly: every night you travel

Have you had astral travels? Many will say — "yes", many — "no". I will say — every night you travel. Every time you fall asleep, you become yourself.

Maybe — you dance. Maybe — you fight. Maybe — you fall in love or have sex. Maybe something scares you.

You can "wake up in a dream" and solve problems: argue with your boss, meet with friends, worry about relatives. This world — the nearest area of illusions — is very similar to everything we see every day. It is familiar, except that the colors, the location of objects, the appearance of "users" are slightly different. But you don't attach any importance to this, most likely — you don't even notice...

You give yourself an order — to forget.

There are nights when you fly. In childhood, we were told that when you fly in a dream, you grow. This is true: especially for the period of sexual maturation, when there is an intensive formation of the physical body.

But by the age of 20-25, the hormonal system calms down. And you start to grow spiritually. Well, if you start... So, when you hover over the Earth in the period of maturity, this is an indicative process of strengthening the subtle bodies. Good travels!

...There are nights when you are thrown into space. You open your eyes, think you know where you are. You find yourself in incredibly strange worlds: in dark lands with weak twilight lighting, in sparkling spaces with myriads of stars, on huge planets, where waterfalls flow, twisting into spirals, on cosmodromes with such lethal devices that there is no point in reviewing "Star Wars" anymore. But you don't want to get close to the creatures that scurry around the ships. You "in a dream" know for sure that not all aliens are cute...

In the ghostly reality, a thought is embedded: "My God, the scariest thing is to wake up in a new place and not remember how you got here!". And you painfully "strain your whole body" to return. Home!

Many want to go home: too implausible, too scary, too incomprehensible. Why all this? Better — forget. And you give yourself an order. Close your eyes. Wake up on Earth. Forget. But sometimes there is some beyond-the-limit rustle in the heart, which calls to comprehend the unknown, and not to recognize the familiar.