e-book The Boy Who Died and Came Back: Adventures of a Dream Archaeologist in the Multiverse

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Contents:
  1. Publisher Profile / New World Library — Articles — Foreword Reviews
  2. Literary events for week of March 2
  3. Customer Reviews

Moss continues to be one of our greatest explorers of consciousness. He is that rarest of authors who brings hope and meaning to every reader.

Publisher Profile / New World Library — Articles — Foreword Reviews

The rich spectrum of these remarkable adventures in consciousness ranges from near-death experiences, memories of previous incarnations, lucid precognitive dreams, encounters with spirits and archetypal beings, and stunning synchronicities, to shamanic experiences of psychospiritual death and rebirth. Robert Moss' unique ability to navigate these experiences; use them as sources of inspiration, healing, and spiritual insight; and integrate them into his everyday life makes this book an invaluable guide for people interested in self-discovery, spiritual quest, and learning about the nature of reality.

He leads transformative adventures all over the world and has taught many thousands of people in all walks of life to heal their lives, discover their personal mission, and awaken to the reality of the multidimensional universe.

The author of nine books on Active Dreaming, he is also a novelist, poet, and independent scholar. He spends half his year on the road and half at home in upstate New York. Rating details. Book ratings by Goodreads. Goodreads is the world's largest site for readers with over 50 million reviews. We're featuring millions of their reader ratings on our book pages to help you find your new favourite book.

Close X. Learn about new offers and get more deals by joining our newsletter. Sign up now. Follow us. The people who tend me are very tall and very slender. They bend like flowers.

Literary events for week of March 2

Their skin is silvery and they glow with an inner light that radiates from the center of the chest. They hold a bowl to my mouth and encourage me to drink. The juice is delicious; it reminds me of mangoes and passion fruit and wild berries all at once.

They are working on my body. Their fingers are very long and play me like a stringed instrument. I have the sense that they are adjusting my form. I can see my toes growing longer, like theirs, which are as long as their fingers. They are singing over me, and the music brings tears of joy.

Customer Reviews

I know this song, or its sister. I know I am home.

There is no measurement of time in this world, apart from the changing colors of the great Tree of Life at the center of all. There is no division of day and night. We live in a perpetual twilight. I swim and climb and move like a flying fox through the trees with the other young ones. I sit with the elders and grandmothers. They transfer their wisdom by bringing me inside their energy fields, as within a tent, and filling me with their songs and images.

When I grow beyond boyhood, the young women take turns teaching me other things, until the chosen one receives me into the sacred bed. I become a father and a grandfather among these gentle people. Life in a sunburned country as a sickly boy is a fading dream that disturbs me less and less.

I enjoy the body I now inhabit — its quicksilver ability to morph and stretch, to give and receive pleasure. Yet with long use it slows and falters, and I understand that it is time to let it drop, as a well-used garment, and travel on, through a pattern of stars the elders showed me, for which I am now a memory keeper. I choose dissolution by fire. I rise on the sweet aroma of fruitwood burning in the pyre, ready to enter the dance of the stars. But a force intercedes.

I am pulled up through the layers of earth and rock, up into a world of glass and brick and asphalt, and thrown back into the body of a nine-year-old boy with stitches on his abdomen. His mouth — my mouth — is terribly dry.

The people around me look like ghosts. Your email address will not be published. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam.

Robert Moss introduces MYSTERIOUS REALITIES

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