Friday, December 27, 2013; OBE

I was standing on a shoreline looking over an ocean. The water was calm and clear. The Sun that was setting on the horizon was much smaller than Earth’s Sol and was brilliant white. I could see the star actually sliding down the sky; this had to be due to the quick rotation of the planet.

The light of the star not only bounced hard off the water’s surface but filled the depths down to hundreds of feet, if not miles. It wasn’t a clear view but a hazy, beautiful, almost light blue. The light even came up to the shore, giving me a moment of confusion. The water line of a shore usually appears to wash over the beach, but here it looked as if the shoreline was washing over the water.

I was several yards away from the water’s edge, so I walked over to get a better look. As I neared it, I could start to see the underside of the shore. Only feet away, I now saw that this shoreline was not made up of water but glass. I heard the crunch of the sand as I stepped onto the surface. I bent down and ran my hand across the material. The feel was hot and solid.

I looked to the east and all I saw was a vast low desert. I stood up and faced the dropping sun. As the star touched the horizon, its light was magnified a hundred times through the glassy ocean. The light became blindingly bright, causing me to jerk my hands over my eyes.

I squinted into the glaring light. The star had completely set and the brilliance of it exploded into such brightness, that it pierced through my closed eyelids. Turning my back to the star, I opened my eyes only to find myself once again in my room.