I CAN'T PLAY TODAY

Several years ago when I was still married, Josh, the little 5-year-old neighbor boy, would periodically come by the house and ring the bell. He always said the oddest thing, but then again he was only 5. The first time it happened I never questioned it or gave it much thought. Josh rang the bell and when I answered it he told me, "Hi Vicky! I just wanted to tell you that I can't play today." It caught me off guard and I assumed he meant to say that he came by to tell me he could play today. I checked, "Oh, do you mean you can play?"

"Nope, I can't play today. We have to go to the store," Josh said, with his usual smile from ear to ear. He was always such a happy kid, but for the life of me it made no sense why a kid would be happy that he couldn't play. And why was he telling me this?

I just told him "ok", and off he went, happy as a clam. I had no idea what this was all about, but I quickly forget about it. Until the next time Josh rang the bell.

The second time he came by, I thought I'd pre-empt him by opening the door and immediately saying, "The kids aren't home right now," since I assumed he was here for them. On this occasion he said, "I didn't come for David and Abby. I came to see you." This too caught me off guard. My attempt to quickly get rid of him (not that he was a bad kid, but he was a kid and I was a grown up and being a grown up meant I was busy and had things to do) had failed, but I thought he was only telling me he was here to see me since I had already told him that the kids were not home.

"Oh you did? What's up?" I replied.

"I can't play today," Josh said.

This scenario, in one form or another, happened at least once a week. There were times when my kids played with him, so there was nothing unusual there. The only unusual thing was when Josh would inform me that he couldn't play on a particular day. After this became our usual thing, I got the notion that Josh was specifically telling me that he couldn't play, and it wasn't so that I'd inform the kids. He never wanted the kids, only me. Me. Again, I'm a grown up. Why this 5-year-old who I didn't know wanted to inform me that he wasn't available for me to play with, I had no idea. I once asked his older sister why he did this and she just laughed and said she had no idea. "He's just weird I guess," she'd said.

An affinity for Josh grew, and I became so curious about why he acted as if he and I had some kind of connection. He was a cute kid. Never caused any trouble. And he was always just so darn happy to see me, even on the days when he said he couldn't play. And he wasn't making it up either. His mom would be waiting in the car while Josh ran over to inform me he couldn't play because they had to run errands that day. I always wondered what his mother thought!

I decided to set an intention to find out what connection Josh and I had, or at least get some insight as to what this was all about. My intention was pure and simple, "Is there something about Josh that I'm not aware of, something we do together nonphysically maybe, or something he perceives of me that I don't know about?" I set my intention before bed, hoping the answer would come to me somehow. I'd had a lot of experience having OBEs this way, by setting an intention before bed.

This one worked like a charm. I found myself in the most exhausting OBE I've ever had. In it, Josh and I were playing in a gigantic indoor playground. It was the size of a warehouse and had tall, winding staircases that went up a couple stories or more. There were kids running, laughing, having a good time. There were games, food, candy, and lots of things to do and look at. It was like a cross between an amusement park and a playground and there was so much to do you couldn't have done it all in one day. Josh was in the lead, "Come on! Let's go this way!" I obediently followed Josh, running to catch up to him, trying to catch my breath at the same time. We played and ran, and ran and played. We were nonstop having fun, chasing each other and eating and playing. It sure was a neat place.

At some point a sense of familiarity came over me and I'd realized I'd been here before many times. I stopped, pondering that thought, as if it were the first time I had thought about it. Then as if coming out of a state of amnesia, it hit me. I remembered my intent to have an OBE to find out what this thing with Josh was all about. I stood there amidst the noise, chaos and kid-fun. Up until then I had played with Josh, almost mindlessly, not paying attention to anything but the moment. But as I stood there remembering, realizing with full awareness that this wasn't physical reality, I suddenly felt exhausted. This was a nonphysical place, not physically real, but this is what Josh and I did together (for some reason) on occasion. And those days when Josh would come by the house to tell me that he couldn't play today, this is what he was talking about. In little Josh's mind this place was real. And he and I played together here.

I awoke completely worn out, totally exhausted from that experience. I thought to myself, "I never felt this way before, or maybe I have and just thought I'd had a bad night's sleep or something. But now that I am aware of all that nonphysical activity, I'm also aware of how exhausted I feel. Maybe if I hadn't set intent to know, I wouldn't feel this way right now." My grown-up body wasn't used to all that kid-fun stuff, as neat as it was.

Josh probably woke up remembering these experiences, and I'm sure when he did he wanted to get right back at it. But sometimes he had to do other things, like get in the car and go somewhere. These were the times when Josh would happily come over to let me know he couldn't do it today. I guess he didn't want to disappoint me!

What was going on with Josh, I assumed, was that he probably didn't have memory of this experience all the time, but when he did it was so real to him that he had no way of knowing it wasn't physical reality. He probably had many occasions when he either didn't remember the OBE, or he did but he patiently assumed it would just happen again. Then, when his mom or dad disrupted him from whatever activity was consuming his attention at the moment, that's when Josh would suddenly realize that he was going to be busy, and that his waiting for our play time to "just happen" again would be put on hold. That's when he'd come tell me he couldn't play.

It made sense. I mean, it made as much sense as it could. When you're a 5-year-old, the boundaries between physical and nonphysical reality are easily blurred and constantly overlapping. Young children don't pay attention to the proper order of sequence of how and when things happen. Their attention span is too much in-the-moment to be bothered with boring details.

And although it was amazing to have the OBE that I had so that I could make some sense of Josh's pre-occupation with me, I never did find out why he and I nonphysically played together in the first place! Well, I'm a kid at heart and I love kids, so I'm not too surprised.