ANGEL'S EYE
A Chronicle of Out of Body Experiences
By Jean Galliano
With illustrations by Roni Chernin
Dedicated to all Seekers of Truth
Copyright 2012 Jean Galliano & Roni Chernin
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1198-9
No portion of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the author or artist.
Story and poetry - by Jean Galliano
Book design and illustrations - by Roni Chernin
A MYSTERY SCHOOL HOUSE PUBLICATION
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Introduction
I began to experience Astral Projection in March, 1978. It would happen very spontaneously, and I had the feeling that it emerged out of a deep love I felt separated from.
The first thing made known to me, in those unfamiliar states of consciousness, was that I was not alone. I experienced contact with supernal beings. They became my mentors and guided my journeys. Great joy and fear were instilled in me. I began to spend long hours meditating. I was trying to remember and induce the sensations of astral travel. The idea of communicating this way took hold of me. I realized this new talent was an evolution of mind, and if it was happening to me, it was also happening to others. I heard poetry being recited. I found myself reading books pertaining to the order of the universe and the history of the world. Sometimes there were no words, only visual impressions, clairvoyance, and the crystal clarity of being.
This collection is a chronicle of out of body experiences, by which I learned that there is a sacred order to creation and a true history of humanity. To survive and evolve, we must realize our origin and accept the responsibilities of creation.
Peace and prayers,
Jean Galliano
I am the richest man
I am the poorest
The world is in my hand.
I am the mind of man.
I am the richest man
I am the poorest
The world is in my hand.
I am the mind of man.
I am the richest man
I am the poorest
The world is in my hand.
I am the mind of man.
I am the richest man
I am the poorest
The world is in my hand.
I am the mind of man.
I am the richest man
I am the poorest
The world is in my hand.
I am the mind of man.
to dream is the greatest of gifts
for if you can dream
no nothing can bind you and if
you can dream
no infinity can snatch you up
and nothing you cannot find or
create
...this is your strength
this is your power
dream
Who are you?
A reflection of those I know and love. Maya. I am that which I have learned to be,
an animal instinctively surviving in a jungle of concrete and condo
and just plain con.
My intuition is replaced by superstition. My god is reduced to "mumbo jumbo" I
never wrote. Fox the fox. Pray or be preyed upon.
"Where are you?" might be the better question.
What godforsaken time of man is it?
What have we evolved into?
What madness have we created in the name of civilization?
...I am consciousness examining Itself, attempting to define itself.
What do I feel? Why do I feel?
What do I think? What am experiencing?
Why? How?
…Eyes and ears to eternity.
I am God witnessing Himself, enjoying His great belly laughter as I riddle Him.
Out of Body Experience - The Veil is Lifted
I am falling into sleep when I become conscious of a sound, like a wind. It grows increasingly louder sweeping around my ears. In no time, I am engulfed. All other sounds are drowned out. My entire body is vibrating, resonating first with curiosity then with fear. I jump up and out of my sleep. I am disoriented and confused. What was that? A dream? A loud stereo? A passing siren? I feel uneasy. My heart is beating hard. Groggy on my feet I stagger a moment, but it is quiet now. I have been spending much time alone. Perhaps I am affected by the solitude and the new found chastity. I have been missing my love for long now. Perhaps I am suffering fear of another dream. I wake myself with loud noises.
Too tired to reflect, I dismiss whatever it was. I doze again to find myself at that fine line between consciousness and sleep. The sound is upon me. Where is it coming from? Am I inside of a hurricane? It is rippling through me, and tossing my very spirit from the peaceful boundaries of unconsciousness.
I fight to wake up but cannot. I struggle to move any part of my body only to grow more and more dense. A thickness settles all around me. I am the trunk of a tree. I fight still harder trying to break loose, but I cannot move even a finger.
In the distance I hear the cry of an infant. The cry echoes. It is me. I am the infant. Some part of me is crying small and helpless. But I am strong. I have made it through birth. Though I am cold, I can feel I am alive.
I manage to awaken. Sweating, I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom to look myself over. I widen my eyes in the mirror. "I look okay,” I think, wetting my face, "What the hell was that?"
I go back to my room. Sitting and pondering, I conclude that I am not dreaming. It is quiet and barely morning. I feel both anxious and excited. I am filled with strange anticipation, but when I try to think…