Out-of-body experiences (OBEs) are one of those fascinating topics that spark a whirlwind of curiosity. We’ve all heard the stories—people feeling as though they’re floating above their bodies, witnessing events from an outside perspective. While much of the buzz around OBEs leans into the ethereal and metaphysical, my recent work has peeled back layers to reveal a more perplexing truth: These experiences can sometimes be downright terrifying, especially for children.
As a parent, my interest in OBEs has become more personal, extending beyond just research. Recently, I discovered that my 8-year-old son has been grappling with various sleep-related phenomena, including OBEs and sleep paralysis. The realization hit me when I noted his increasing anxiety about sleeping alone, leading to a nightly struggle where bedtime seemed to morph into a battle of wills. Despite being an otherwise happy and fearless child, he experiences intense fear in the dark, frequently waking up and racing to my room for comfort. I could have chalked this up to ordinary childhood nightmares, but something felt off—as if his fear was rooted in something deeper.
In my research, I’ve conversed with many individuals who, looking back, identified childhood OBEs but struggled to make sense of them at the time. It’s interesting to note that many people only label these experiences later in life, often after discussing them in therapeutic settings. Participants frequently described feelings of helplessness during their childhood OBEs, sometimes interpreting them as abductions. I remember one interviewee recounting how her father had to build a fence around her bed as if it could tether her to the physical realm and protect her from being “taken” by aliens.
What struck me most was the fear of sharing these experiences. Many felt isolated, unsure of how to explain what was happening to them, or worried they might be viewed as “different.” This perceived silence only deepened the emotional scars they carried into adulthood. It’s heartbreaking to consider how such profound experiences—often framed as mystical or enlightening—can instead leave a lingering sense of fear when filtered through a child’s limited understanding.
The psychological implications of OBEs can be monumental. The sensation of ego dissolution—where a person feels their identity is separate from their physical form—can lead to significant shifts in worldview, especially for adults. For many, these experiences ignite beliefs in life after death, challenging our earthly comprehension of existence. It’s a journey that takes you to the edge of understanding what it means to really “be” without a physical body, which, let’s face it, is just plain mind-bending. Adding to this complexity is sleep paralysis, a related phenomenon that often occurs at night. Picture this: a child awakening in the dark, fully conscious but unable to move, feeling paralyzed yet acutely aware of their surroundings. For adults, such an experience can induce anxiety, but for children, it can be utterly terrifying, amplifying their nighttime fears.
So here I am, navigating the uncertain waters of helping my son cope with these profound experiences. He tells me he woke up floating in his room, next to the ceiling fan, looking down at his body lying in bed. As he describes his body’s position and the Volkswagen Bus Christmas ornament hanging from the fan so close to him, he says it feels incredibly real. I strive to reassure him, offering comfort while trying to unpack the pieces of his nighttime panic. I’m learning the importance of creating a safe space for him to express his feelings, where he knows he can share these fears without judgment. The key, I think, lies in validating his experiences, no matter how extraordinary they may seem.
In the end, this whole journey into the realm of OBEs isn’t just about unraveling the mysteries of the mind—it’s also about understanding our little ones in a whole new light. While OBEs can be a thrilling topic for research and discussion, for children, they can represent true psychological challenges. It’s a reminder that even in our quest for knowledge, the emotional well-being of those we love must remain front and center. After all, every extraordinary story comes with its own set of complexities.
My son’s view during his out-of-body experience
Source: Marina Weiler
