Interview with a closet Walk-In
By Scot Rhoads
Walk-ins are people who were not born into the bodies they inhabit. A typical story would be of a man who recovers from a life threatening illness with a new personality and inexplicably abandons his old life. It is hard to guess how common this is. It is certainly rare, but may be more common than the occasional episodic report would suggest.
We had the fortune to interview a man who believes himself to be a walk-in. Perhaps this will offer some insight into this mysterious and poorly reported phenomenon.
Why a closet walk-in?
Besides the obvious pun, it is because I don't want to be known as one. Of course, part of me does. I think everyone wants to be accepted the way they are (or the way they perceive themselves, anyway). But this is not the same thing as being Republican (though the two extremes may be converging). My philosophy is: it's not crazy to think that the Space Brothers are coming to take you away— it's crazy to tell everyone that they are! I don't think I'm crazy, but I think too many people would see me that way. Occasionally I've run into someone who advertises being a walk-in like it's some kind of credential. They strike me as foolish. And believe me, if I am a walk-in, I can tell you it's no guaranteed credential of anything.
Also, even now I'm not sure that this isn't merely a strange way of perceiving a mundane psychological condition. I know that my experience (and the archetypical walk-in experience even more so) is symptomatic of dissociation and Multiple Personality Disorder (which, conversely, suggests a metaphysical nature for MPD). Not that this really means anything, but in this culture it's tough to take ideas like walk-ins seriously. Also, my feelings and experiences are not necessarily unique. Sure, there have got to be plenty of other walk-ins, but most of the people experiencing some of the symptoms are probably not walk-ins. I base my conclusion on the weight of evidence, intuition (my own and other people's) and wishful thinking—the last is why I'm very hesitant about this!
So why do you believe you are a walk-in?
I fit the profile; results of past life regressions for myself and my wife; feelings of being out of place (not necessarily unusual, but significant in context) and some other things.
Can you describe the experience of walking-in?
Not really. I have no recollection from the time or through regression. But I sure remember what it was like afterward. Evidently I did not have the expected life threatening experience. My parents couldn't think of anything dramatic that happened at that time. I just woke up one morning and had no knowledge of who or where I was.
I knew my first name, that I was nearly three and a half years old, that it was 1966 and, mysteriously, that the president was Johnson. This was an interesting experience (in the sense of the Chinese curse of interesting times). Though I didn't feel threatened, I was afraid to let anyone know that I didn't remember anything. How could I let these people who thought they were my parents know that I had no idea who they were or what their names were? Seeing them that day was like seeing them for the first time.
I was functional, though. I had no problem with words (though many of them seemed wrong to me for many years and would sometimes make me mad). I managed to bluff my way through—but then, who expects very much of a three-year-old? It was very unpleasant, though. For some reason I was always afraid of being found out—not as a walk-in, since I had no idea of that then, but that I couldn't remember things I was supposed to. I met people who were supposed to be old friends that I'd `never seen before.' Walking outside my room and outside our apartment into the neighborhood was totally new to me on that day. And I didn't know that people expected so little of a three-year-old that my missing memory would not show up. It surprised me to learn I didn't need to know my parents' names, mom and dad worked just fine. And I lost no skills, as far as I could tell.
Though it was interesting in a way, I wouldn't wish it on anyone I liked. I still remember my mother pointing out a house soon after this and telling me a friend of mine lived there. The friend's name meant nothing to me, neither did the house. I still wonder if I ever saw that person again.
I should add that, as I understand it, most walk-ins come in as children or infants, because it is much easier to orient to the new life. Stories of adult walk-ins are dramatic, but relatively rare. You can imagine how difficult it would have been for me to get away with it if I'd been an adult when I walked-in.
What effect has this had on you?
How do you differ from ordinary mortals?
First I would like to say that though I recognize your phrasing is tongue-in-cheek, I balk at the implication that I am more than ordinary (actually, one could make the opposite argument)—I'm just other than.
I mentioned feeling uncomfortable with many words. I felt they were not onomatopoeic. I didn't feel that about words that actually are onomatopoeias (like hiss or ring) but about words that aren't, like talk or box. But that passed after five or ten years. I still have an unusually bad memory for names and faces, though. I often wonder if that is related to having missed a key imprinting stage.
I never could relate to kids (or understand why adults treat them so strangely) because I never was one in the proper sense. Sure, I did a lot of stupid kid things, but I never fit in. For instance, I always felt self-conscious about the weird and stupid lyrics we were required to sing in kindergarten. Perhaps others felt the same, I don't know, but I still feel out of place and not entirely human. And I feel that in many ways I was like an adult in a kid's body. Though this had occasional advantages, it was a social nightmare.
I also never felt the kind of connection with my parents that others seem to have. I still don't find myself able to think of them as parents. It has only been over the years that I've grown close to them at all, and it still is more of a friendship than a family feeling.
The worst part is feeling unhappy about being stuck here in this body on this world. I feel out of place and unconnected. It is very unpleasant most of the time.
Can you say where you walked-in from?
Oi! Well, I could. OK: Again, I hesitate on this because it is a subject that tends to get people dismissed (perhaps rightly so). It seems that my closest tie is with Atlantis. Now, Atlantis bugs me because the hypothesis seems at odds with the weight of the evidence, but I suspect that the Earth that Atlantis was a part of is not the same Earth we are on now—thus, little if any physical evidence. But the two Earths are part of the same continuum—thus, a connection (mostly metaphysical). It's like one past is on the curve of a circle, but the past we can view in the geological record, etc., is on the tangent of our present point. It would take me forever to explain more than this and it's not entirely settled in my mind anyway so I'll leave it at that.
That disclaimer out of the way. You have probably heard some of the stories about the mysterious and generic evil deeds of the Atlantians that lead to the Deluge (which, by the way, is actually supposed to have happened over millennia). Well, without going into compromising detail, I was a victim of some biological experiments and this was (and is) the key to my identity. I know enough to be sure that the things they did would be impossible today, but the somewhat different nature of reality and their different science allowed the Atlantians to work wonders. Anti-gravity devices and such seem impossible today—but they were not back then/there. At least, that's what I hear.
Why did you walk-in?
I wish I knew for sure. I am sure that the way I left the life that led into this one was against my will. I did not have any conscious plan at the time. But that certainly does not preclude any plans on a higher level. I do have a sense of purpose, though. It seems too strange to talk about right now (especially with my being unsure), but it appears to involve helping people to be more in touch with nature and perhaps nature to be more in touch with people. I don't think very many would understand much more than that—it's pretty weird. Anyway, we'll see in a couple decades or so.
Again, from what I've heard: Walk-ins come here to help—with the spiritual development of the planet, etc. That sounds kind of grandiose and conspiratorial. I suppose that is what I want to do, but that's not how I usually think of it. My motivations are not so eloquent. What I have is an emotional desire to do certain things with my life and to create certain things. Upon reflection, my success could be highly evolutionary, but it is an inner compulsion that drives me, not necessarily some higher consciousness or the like. I hesitate to attach great significance to any of this, but I can't reject the idea either. I guess the point is that I am not aware of what is beyond my individual horizon, though I do have suspicions.
Would you like to say anything in closing?
Just that although this stuff is awfully weird, we all have weird things from our past lives. It's just that I have a little more direct connection than most. I know our culture doesn't respect free expression of such things, but just because they are best kept hidden doesn't mean that they are good or bad. I don't think walk-ins or other unusual people should be dismissed as nuts or that they should automatically get any particular respect from the metaphysical community. If my experience is representative, I can tell you that though we are unusual, we are struggling through the same world as the rest of humanity and we deserve the same respect—no less or more. | 
