Paranormal Events in Families – Children’s Visions, Part 1

I believe that some my earliest childhood memories are definitely paranormal in nature. In fact, as I try thinking back into the mists of my own history, those memories overshadow most other past events from ages three to five with an incredible potency. I think that’s because what happened was a repetition of the same type of event, possibly on a daily basis, and one which my parents continually told me wasn’t real.

My guess, not an exact memory, is that they told me it was a dream. Why? Because this repeating experience only happened while I was in bed, early in the morning. Makes sense, right? Kid thinks he wakes up but is actually still asleep. The thing is, even at that tender age, I knew better.

Little Dougie at 18 months

It always began right after I awakened, usually before my parents got up and when everything was still very quiet. Little objects would appear directly in front of me floating in the air. The first ones to show up were always toys of some kind, very familiar type of things. As more of them appeared, they began to slowly move in astraight line towards the wall next to my bed. Then the toys either morphed or disappeared entirely but were replaced by something else.

One of several attempts here to reproduce the colors, textures and designs of what I saw.

These new objects were very strange, like nothing else I had encountered in my short life. They were so weird that I couldn’t really describe them to my parents, nor can I adequately describe them to you now. All I can say is that they seemed to be very colorful, amorphous, circular blobs. I want to say that those colors and shapes changed as I watched but I can’t make such a statement with any certainty. What I am fairly sure of though, is that those objects were still there, at times, when my parents came to roust me out of bed. When I tried to show them what I was seeing, they told me nothing was there.

Like the floating toy objects, these blobs followed the same direct, straight-line path towards the wall next to my bed. When any of the objects reached the wall, they simply went into it and disappeared. Of course, that fascinated me no end. Although both toys and blobs looked solid, they could somehow penetrate another solid object. Knowing those objects had to be solid, I always tried to grab or pinch them but never succeeded.  My fingers just went right through toys and blobs alike. Very frustrating but after a while it became a fun game until my parents arose. As soon as I got out of bed and started my day, all the objects vanished.

Dreams? Imagination? Hallucinations? That’s what I thought well into my adulthood until I started studying the paranormal. For such a long time, I bought my parents’ explanations. But that all changed when other experiences and research helped me to understand how what we call reality can have many levels, usually unseen.

When my wife Barbara and I wrote our book, An Explosion of Being: An American Family’s Journey into the psychic many years ago, we created a chapter titled, “Children-Colleagues in Awareness.”  We did so hoping parents and other family members who read it might take children’s unusual experiences a little more seriously. If that happens, we think children will feel more validated and perhaps everyone will learn just a bit more about what is means to be alive in this reality. We raised our kids in such a way and are happy we did.

In closing, I want to mention one more thing. In thinking about writing this posting, it suddenly struck me that there might well be a connection between the little blobs I saw as a child and experiences much later in my adulthood.

While writing An Explosion of Being, I had numerous vivid dreams where beautiful molecular structures were somehow communicating with me without using words. Eventually, this led to extremely intense dream sequences where I became something like a bursting firework. This was followed by what I can only describe as a tremendous explosion that shook the house and started me awake. No one else awoke. It was as if the explosion was meant only for me. From that event came the title of our book, An Explosion of Being.

The point of that story is this. I now wonder if my little colorful, childhood blobs were related to those beautiful, communicating, geometric structures I encountered many decades later. Did they provide a mental construct over time that allowed for more in-depth communication to occur later in life? Interesting question isn’t it?