You wrote,
i supposed that words like mysticism cause you to break out into a self righteous rash. try stepping out from behind the veneer of smugness that you have built around yourself and venture beyond your comfort zone if u ever what to know what its like to be a fully realized human being
I, for one, do not break out in a rash over words like "mysticism": I once had a truly prescient dream, which to me was all the more remarkable because in it I foresaw what was perhaps the most inconsequential event of my life. I describe it below.
Of course, TheGreatJuJu's observations apply to that experience:
[M]ysticism effectively resides in a category of analysis that cannot be distinguished from imagination. It's more or less useless in terms of "research," since the results can be neither verified nor falsified outside the claimant's mind … .
To me, your post is an excellent cautionary example of what happens to those who go strolling smugly down the "magical path of possibility thinking". If you're so "fully realized", why did it not occur to you that some of us who debunk 2012 don't reject mysticism out of hand, but do recognize that it suffers from exactly the defects JuJu describes, and that this is the reason why we demand lots of real evidence from people who claim it as the source of their information? Might that possibility have been too far outside your own comfort zone?
Here's the story of my own utterly worthless prescient dream. Please note that I have no history of mental illness, have never used "drugs" (not even marijuana), and to my recollection had not even had a beer within 48 hours of the dream.
The experience started about 10:45 one morning in the fall of 1976, in the Kroll Memorial Lecture Hall in the Hill Hall Metallurgy Building at the Colorado School of Mines. It was Friday, and we were only 5 minutes from the end of Transport Phenomena class, taught by Dr. Frank Lawson, a visiting professor from Australia.
He had just finished his series of lectures on laminar flow, and we hoped he would let us out early. However, conscientious soul that he was, he instead launched into the next subject—turbulent flow—by drawing on the blackboard a table with about 16 entries. These, he explained, were maximum velocities at which molten lead can flow through pipes of various diameters, at assorted temperatures, without becoming turbulent.
The purpose of his table was to show us that laminar flow isn’t common in industrial settings. A useful exercise, but it bored and irritated me that morning. All I wanted to do was get through the next class (thermodynamics, taught by Dr. John P. Hager), then relax a bit before starting on the weekend’s mountain of homework. I paid little attention to the rest of the lecture.
Thermo class came and went; the weekend passed swiftly; and soon it was Sunday night. I went to bed at 11pm. During the night, I dreamed that Dr. Lawson was erasing two of the entries in the table that he had drawn, after which he wrote new ones in their places. I awoke thinking that I’d really become a hurtin’ unit if I couldn’t come up with dreams any better than that one, and thought no more of it.
Ten o’clock that morning found me seated once more in Dr. Lawson’s class. He drew the same table on the board while we students took our seats, then informed us that he had miscalculated two of the entries. I barely paid attention until he turned from the podium, eraser and chalk in hand, and "re-enacted" my dream. I was so startled that my jaw dropped, and I began to shake. It’s hard to describe the experience: it was as though I'd had a movie of the dream running in my memory, and the present suddenly overlaid it exactly for about two seconds.
I’ve recounted this experience to several people over the years. Some accepted it as one of those strange experiences that happen to almost everyone sooner or later, while others (primarily scientists) tried to explain it away by saying that I must have figured out, unconsciously, that the entries were wrong. Their explanation is untenable for three reasons.
First, I couldn’t have known, even unconsciously, that those two entries were wrong. Professor Lawson had scarcely begun lecturing on turbulent flow, and I’d paid little attention. He’d assigned no homework, so I hadn’t learned how to do the necessary calculations. Even if I had, I couldn’t have known that the entries were incorrect without knowing the viscosity of molten lead at the temperatures involved.
I believe, honestly, that if someone had told me on Friday that the table contained two errors among its 16 entries, and that I had all weekend to identify them, I could not have done so, especially on top of all my other homework.
A second reason why "you just figured it out unconsciously" is an unsatisfactory explanation, is that even had I known consciously that the two entries were wrong, I’d never have predicted that Dr. Lawson would correct them in the way that he did. He made no further use of the table in that or any other lecture, so why did he go to the trouble of drawing the whole thing again, errors included? I’d have predicted that he would simply tell us which two of the sixteen values were wrong, then give us the correct ones.
But most importantly, what I’d seen in the dream was not merely the fate of two numbers. Instead, I’d foreseen an event that did indeed occur, and precisely as I’d foreseen it. The table was in the same place on the blackboard. I’d seen it from the same perspective. Dr. Lawson was standing in the same position, with the same posture. Moreover, although he was ambidextrous, dream and reality had again matched perfectly: he’d erased with the left hand and written with the right.
I see no alternative to concluding that in my dream I saw, in exact detail, about two seconds of the future that really weren't worth the bother.