OBE Log: Real ( Precognitive ) Data

October 30, 2022

Note: This is another example of an experience where I am entering into and out of full cognitive capacity. I include all precognitive experiences in my log, and have drafted this one in a format which includes many of the areas and transitions between areas where I am vacating full cognitive capacity due to them including pertinent data. I will note here also, that I have accessed this data previously, multiple times before. I have clues, but not enough solid data to tell me where it is in time the data is coming from. With this said, here we go.—


I am together with Erich and Leslie, and a host of others in the yoga room. 

There is deep and meaningful discourse but what I am most picking up on as I arrive fully conscious is that Leslie is wearing a hair piece ( I suspect because her hair is thinning [ or falling out ] ). I then notice that Erich, too, is wearing a hair piece. The room is lit in a very comforting golden light and one element of what is being discussed is the two of them going away. They are going to retreat together. I am going to house sit, but feel at the same time, more accurately, the others of us here are the clean up crew. I see Erich and Leslie enter a stretch vehicle. Erich is dressed in his teacher’s gear, black tank top and yoga shorts. He is entering the front passenger side door. 


The actual yoga room

Inside the house, which is certainly their house, but not the 18th street house, I notice many of the others who were present in the yoga room. I do not recognize any of the ones I am currently seeing. I decide I will get to work, stepping into a side room to dress myself ( I have been in an out of body state for some time, for those of you who know me this means I am not dressed ). A man appears and suggests that I stay in this state, more referencing my state of undress than awareness. He is fair haired, with the hair tied back, he is well built, has tattoos on his arm and is wearing a simple yoga short. His energy is very different to mine. I would even say dark.

To show respect, as I am in a telepathic field, in acknowledgment of his proposition, I step up to him as I am, and from slightly to his left place my forehead on his left shoulder. There is an energy exchange. I cannot say, nor do I want to see into what he doing with the exchange, but from within my end of this I am bathing us both in the pure light. The experience is very beautiful. I then continue into the side room and on with my straightening and cleaning.

Behind all this activity, only a fraction of which have I relayed, I am receiving a very particular teaching/lesson. I feel the importance of seeing into this more than I have been. I am being told of the 3 basic ways one is stood, or positioned in an incarnation:

  1. As one who will not interfere
  2. [ this middle one I struggle to bring back, I feel it is in reference to our 3D amnesia ]
  3. As one who will interfere 

Inside this experience I am at a point where I realize the experience is closing down, I am rushing around trying to find a piece of paper and pen to write everything important that I can *in order to embed it. It is as though I am not being allowed. The first utensils I find, I open my eyes to see have broken down into dust and blown away. The next turn into brown paper and pink pen, whose ink is not readable on the brown. I am now thinking of Erich’s yoga book, it will have bright white paper inside and maybe I can remove one piece from the back of it.

All the others who are in the house are gathering into a room where I am telling them I will play the crystal bowls for them. It is time for the meditation. This is all happening in a whirl all at once. I run into the room just off of this one to again try to write down as much as I can. Robyn is here and trying to help but at this point I am in somewhat of a fury. I also, it seems, have to pass gas ( lol ) which I feel comfortable enough to do in Robyn’s presence. We both have a sisterly giggle about this as Robyn puts through one of her funny Southern-style jokes.

The scenes are all collapsing one into
another into another now

I am walking through a dirt field, past a large circular indent that a bull dog, or possibly very large pug is preparing to pee into from of distance. He does this just as I am walking by, where I can see it is now a nicely filled puddle. I am walking at a fairly fast clip, but it seems not fast enough. The scene makers pull up behind me in a large truck to push me forward faster. I hear some of their discussion. One of them is saying something about how they can’t expect us to grow without a significant push now and again. ( but ) I am having fun! at the front of the truck,—

The speed of it has lifted me off the ground and adhered me to it so that the truck is now doing all the work. I don’t want the driver to know ( lol ) so I pretend I do not know whether I am supposed to run with my legs or not. I even give off a fake screen to make him feel I am really being pushed past my limit. This seems to give the one of them pleasure, a feeling of accomplishing of intent. Which at the crux of it is not in any way mean, but to assist me.

We have arrived again at a home, this time an apartment home.. The others are already here, I am coming up the stairs and running into a male person, a bit muscular, 50-something, bald, wearing a black leather jacket. I say something to him, and without holding back, in a friendly greeting thump my hand to his chest a few times in rapid succession. I then walk into the apartment, into the activity happening here, within the midst of which the scene is collapsing into another.

I am walking out of the back of the structure containing this entire night’s experience. I recognize myself as having been here before. I know that if I walk out this door, the second I do it is going to vanish—the door back in is not going to be here. Knowing this, I walk out all the same, feeling confident in my fully conscious state I will not step beyond being able to re-enter. …. It doesn’t happen, though. Even standing right here outside the doorway it disappears. There are many other doors right here, but they are not the way back in to Erich and Leslie’s. 

I am walking into door area after door area, until I enter one in which there is an odd looking valet inside. It is slate grey inside this area, which appears a ramp leading just to the inside of a parking structure. I look down at myself to see I am pushing a hand truck with a large male head upon it. I don’t know where the rest of his body is, but he is a dark one. The head somehow gets flattened by something I do. It is something unintended, a mistake on my part, an accident. It is not serious, just an inconvenience for the being, who is now grumbling to me about this.

I hear the valet, knowing on his own why I am here, saying “Erich Schiffmann—a master traveler of the Astral realms……..Casey Claar, the galactic travel channel……” Hearing my name I say “yes! that’s me!” I am really wanting to hear what my own acclaim will be but the scenes are collapsing fast now and I am falling through them one after another after another, gathering all the data I can before approaching the beta waves and landing back in physical space.

I pass Erich and I in an area where we are having a moment alone to ourselves. I am saying to him “I can see why now, the reason for it all, you and Leslie, me and Carie and all the yoga….” but I am not here long enough to glean what the me who is making the realization sees. 

The answers are never given in full in advance.
This is as much as I can bring back.

It is so little in comparison to all that came through.

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