Throughout this writing, I have made many references to one evident fact; the only possible way for an individual to appreciate the reality of this S… - Robert Monroe

The following ordinarily would appear in a foreword or preface. It is placed here on the assumption that most readers skip such preliminaries to get to the meat of the matter. In this case, the following is the crux of it all.

11/18/58 Night
The vibrations came in strong, but nothing more. Again, I thought to try the rotation. When I did, it worked, and I rotated slowly into the 180° position. There was the wall and the hole and the blackness beyond. This time I was more cautious. Carefully, I reached a hand through into the blackness. I was astounded when a hand took mine and shook it! It felt like a human hand, normally warm to the touch. After the handshake, I withdrew my hand quickly. Slowly, I reached into the hole again. The hand shook mine again, and placed a card in it. I withdrew my hand and "looked" at the card. It gave a specific address. I returned the card through the hole, shook hands again, withdrew my hand, rotated back to normal, merged with the physical, and sat up. Most unusual. I will have to investigate this address on Broadway, if it is in New York.

To me, it was a place or condition of pure peace, yet exquisite emotion. It was as if you were floating in warm soft clouds where there is no up or down, where nothing exists as a separate piece of matter. The warmth is not merely around you, it is of you and through you. Your perception is dazzled and overwhelmed by the Perfect Environment. The cloud in which you float is swept by rays of light in shapes and hues that are constantly changing, and each is good as you bathe in them as they pass over you. Ruby-red rays of light, or something beyond what we know as light, because no light ever felt this meaningful. All the colors of the spectrum come and go constantly, never harshly, and each brings a different soothing or restful happiness... You respond and drink into you the eternity of the blues, yellows, greens, and reds, and the complexities of the intermediates. All are familiar to you. This is where you belong. This is Home... The mundane is missing. Choirs of human-sounding voices echo in wordless song. Infinite patterns of strings in all shades of subtle harmony interweave in cyclical yet developing themes, and you resonate with them. There is no source from which the Music comes. It is there, all around you, in you, you are a part of it, and it is you.