Almost Out: My Latest Near-Astral Experience Without Psychedelics
🌕 The Night the Moon Grabbed My Head (Again)
What I’ve Learned from Aliens, DMT, and the Moon
✨ Content is free—but crows like snacks.
I wasn’t meditating. I wasn’t journaling. I wasn’t even trying.
I was just mom-tired. Couch-flopped. Soul floaty.
Too tired to be magical. Too awake to fall asleep.
And then—something touched my crown.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
What happened next reminded me of something I thought I’d lost:
A thread. A tether. A doorway back to myself.
🛸 But first—you need the backstory.
Because this didn’t start on the couch.
It started with my neck, a DMT pen, and a new way of seeing things.
🌿 The First Thread: A Neck I Couldn’t Stop Cracking
Back in 2022, I had a violent, compulsive habit: neck cracking.
Loud. Constant. Painful.
It felt like punishment. Like I was trying to escape my own spine.
I hated it.
One night, I took DMT.
Not to trip. Not to escape.
I wanted to see something I hadn’t been able to see.
DMT (dimethyltryptamine) is a powerful, naturally occurring psychedelic. Some people call it “the spirit molecule.” It can induce profound visions, altered states, or moments of direct perception that feel beyond ordinary reality.
That night, something met me.
A being. A presence. It didn’t speak.
But it moved me.
It reached into my field, rolled my neck gently, and showed me how to feel it instead of snap it.
I’ve never cracked it since.
That was the first breadcrumb.
The first time I truly understood:
My body isn’t the enemy. It’s the receiver.
🏃♀️ Then Came the Walks, the Workouts, the Reframes
I wasn’t chasing bliss.
I wasn’t trying to “raise my vibration.”
I was just in pain.
Deep depression. PTSD. A body that felt like a locked door. A life that didn’t fit.
So I microdosed—not to disappear, but to listen.
Small doses. Gentle walks.
Me and my husband moving under the stars.
The sidewalk pulsed.
The grass shimmered in 4D.
The clouds didn’t just float—they approached.
Reality didn’t feel altered.
It felt revealed.
And for the first time, so did I.
👁️ The Little Nasty
We started seeing the same man on those walks. Same spot, same time.
He flailed his arms at us like he was throwing energy.
We called him The Little Nasty.
One night, I drew a star in the air in his direction.
A quiet act of spiritual refusal. The sign of protection.
We never saw him again.
That was the night I realized:
Magick doesn’t have to be textbook. It’s personal, and all that really matters is your intentions. Your energy.
🌕 The Moon Tether
One night, a full orange moon hung low and glowing.
I took a slightly deeper dose of DMT than usual.
And suddenly I saw them—glowing purple threads emerging from the moon like strands of DNA.
One of them reached out—and grabbed me.
Right between the eyes.
My third eye locked. My body froze.
But I wasn’t afraid.
“She’s so beautiful,” I kept saying. And cried. A lot.
I couldnt move. And I didnt’t want to.
I was being held.
That was the first tether.
🛋️ And Then—Last Night (April 16, 2025)
No DMT. No ritual.
Just soft exhaustion. Honest and holy.
My husband was reading to our toddler. I lay down on the couch.
I wasn’t doing breathwork. I wasn’t meditating.
I was just still.
And then—pop.
A gentle lift at the crown of my head.
A flicker. A string. The thread.
But this time, it didn’t freeze me.
It moved with me.
🧠 The OBE Moment I’ve Been Chasing
’ve been trying to have an OBE—out-of-body experience—for years.
An OBE isn’t always dramatic. It’s not flying through the cosmos in a cape.
It can be subtle: a sense of awareness shifting just outside your physical body.
A floating. A sliding. A remembering.I first got serious about it after discovering Dick Sutphen’s work—his guided meditations, astral projection teachings, and old-school hypnosis-style audio that helped thousands of people explore consciousness beyond the body.
His voice still echoes in my bones sometimes. “Anything is possible.”
Body asleep, mind awake.I’ve gotten close many times—during deep meditations, half-sleep, lucid dreams.
But I always thought I had to be perfectly still to actually get out of my body. I would do the rope visuals to imagin pulling my light body up, or imagine rolling out of my body.
(Spoiler: I was wrong.)
Then last night, my husband said:
“Once you’re in the state, you need to physically move—not just imagine it.”
That was it. That was the missing piece.
I’ve always wanted to reach those states without needing a chemical key.
The DMT helped me see.
The acid helped me feel.
The sass helped me soften.
But the goal was never the drug.
The drugs were just the permission slip.
What I’ve really wanted was this:
To go there without leaving.
To open without force.
To remember, without needing to forget first.
💫 What I’m Learning (And Maybe You Are Too)
This was never about substances or sacred playlists.
It was about access.
It was about being so exhausted, I stopped performing.
And so still, I could feel what was reaching for me.
You’re not broken.
You’re just aching.
And even that is a doorway.
Exhaustion isn’t failure.
I’ve actually had a lot of my most sacred moments in these half awake states.
And the moon?
She doesn’t wait for your perfection.
She just waits for your yes.
🔮 Try This If You’re Curious:
Next time you feel a flicker—at your crown, in your spine, behind your eyes...
Lay still.
Whisper: “Mind awake. Body asleep.”
Then move.
Even just your energy.
Imagine your feet stretching beyond your body.
Reach up.
Climb the rope.
See what happens.
You’re not trying to escape.
You’re trying to remember.
📓 Journal Prompt:
Have you ever felt something you couldn’t explain… but trusted anyway?
Where did it lead you?
💌 Want to Talk About It?
Leave a comment.
Or send me your thread story.
Weird experiences welcome.
Half-finished awakenings count.
So does sacred exhaustion.
🪶 Final Thought from the Couch Temple
Sometimes magick doesn’t come in rituals or incense.
Sometimes it comes in stillness. In surrender. In the moment you finally stop resisting long enough to feel what’s been waiting.
Maybe your thread never left.
Maybe this moment is your return signal.
