This is a story of a near death experience where the author chose to remain anonymous. Many of the events of this story I can relate to. How the author states that he was communicating with someone and he could hear him in his head. It reminds me of when I was eleven and was told by someone to go back home. That voice was not mine but in came from within my head, much like the author tells in his story. I do not feel I have any supernatural gifts but on several occasions I have been spoken to by some force outside of myself, yet, the words came from within.
Having dealt with things that cannot be explained only increases my desire to delve further into the unexplainable. The dreadful dealing I have had with PTSD has made me wonder if the demon is of my own making. Why would I put myself through such turmoil? There are many questions I cannot answer but I will not stop seeking the answers. There are too many unknowns happening in my life to give up.
In the early morning hours of April 14, 1993, exactly one month prior to my college commencement I was involved in an automobile accident.Earlier that evening, I went out to dinner with one of my roommates, "B," to celebrate the arrival of my new car; a Mustang convertible given to me by my parents as a graduation present. The entire week leading up to that night I found myself terribly apprehensive as if I were waiting for something dreadful to happen. At the time, I was in the middle of a romantic breakup with a woman whom I felt with all my heart was "the one": true love. It seemed as if an evolving melodrama was playing itself out with me as the lead character.
I remember speaking with "D," my roommate and recounting a terrible nightmare I had the day before my accident. I told him that in my dream I was witnessing a funeral service. The room was dark and gloomy: there was so much pain and sadness. Everywhere I looked, I saw a familiar face: friends, family, and acquaintances. As I looked upon each face, I could here how they really felt about the deceased. Finally, I made my way to the casket and saw myself within it. Unfortunately, it was too late. Some things are meant to happen. Sometimes, its just too late to redeem ourselves. Or at least, that is how I felt at the time.As we drove towards my apartment, I can't remember it all, but I believe I was cut-off by another car, accidentally I can only assume. I swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid hitting a third car directly and continued along the sidewalk until I struck an electric pole that set off my air-bag. I lost control of my car and it careened off the electric pole and into a tree. The car that was before me, which I maneuvered to avoid hitting, was "B's" car.
I remember seeing a bright flash before I hit the tree. It engulfed me. It felt like standing in a dense fog. When you know the rest of you is there, but you just can't see your own hand before you. I felt no pain upon impact, but my injuries where severe. My face received minor burns from the exploding air-bag; my seat belt left additional burn marks on my neck; my lower front teeth were crushed; the force of the impact snapped my seat from its bearings flinging me forward into the dashboard and backward into the rear seat several times; my right fist shot forward with such power that it smashed an air vent ripping the skin on my knuckles and thumb. I suffered internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen. I laid prone for close to ten minutes waiting for an EMT unit. "B" said that he ran to the nearest phone to call for help. I sometimes wonder if he was not more responsible for my accident than he admitted. I think he was afraid and guilty. I think that is why we eventually drifted apart and no longer speak. It is as if we share a secret we wish to forget.
I remember hearing a voice, but it wasn't talking at me; it was talking from within me. It was putting words into my head: ideas, thoughts, feelings, and sensations. I felt so composed and comfortable in its presence. It took no human form, but it allowed me to recognize its presence as the authoritative voice of an older man (maybe in his mid-30's); he felt so loving, and kind. He talked "in me" about the people who loved me and the people I loved. He offered me the opportunity to continue with him on my journey. But I turned away, because of the love I felt for him, I achieved clarity and in a moment of pure love I told him that I had to go back because there where people who needed me. That I would complete my mission out of love to him regardless of the pain and anguish I may endure. Suddenly, I felt myself pushed back into my body; as if I had been dropped from up on high. I felt so powerless as the arms of EMT members struggled to resuscitate me. As they lifted me into the ambulance, I felt my life force return. I rose from the gurney and struggled with them. In reflection, I think I wasn't fighting feelings of disorientation so much as I was fighting to show everyone I was . . . alive.The rest is a blur. I do remember just before my parents "M" and "J" came into intensive care unit to see me, I could feel the presence of my deceased grandparents standing at the side of my bed. I had so many wires stuck in me and my eyes where completely shut, but I saw and heard them in my mind. I never knew them well. (One who had died prior to my birth; the other, died when I was three years of age.) My grandmother, "M," was so sad. I felt her touch me and heard my grandfather, "G," tell her that it was going to be a long recovery but that I was "alright" and that I would be "okay." At that moment, I heard my father's voice and no longer felt my grandparents near me. I remember hearing my father say that he and my mother where there and they loved me. I remember him telling me to "squeeze daddy's hand if you love me." I tried in futility to do so but I could not. I tried to will a response with my mind, but I was too weak and too incapacitated to speak.
I remember awakening several days later in a private room with family and friends around me. I remember feeling contented and at peace with myself. But I also felt like I knew something that I could never share with others because they would never be receptive to it unless they had experienced it themselves.
Months passed by and I sunk into a deep depression. I began to resent the suffering I endured. I never blamed God or my angel. I felt like they allowed the decision to be mine whether to return to my earthly life or to rejoin them. I miss them so much. Nothing comes close to their love. No matter how many friends I collect, no matter how much "human love" I receive it pails in comparison to the moment of ultimate love and truth I experienced. I struggle with these feelings each day. Some days it is easier than others. But, I will make a promise to fulfill my mission to seek "truth in all things" regardless of what I may be forced to sacrifice.
The only offering we can make that justifies the love that God and our angels give to us is to come back to this world and bring new souls to God. We all share the "same" life force. We are all linked. My angel made me aware of things that I had never taken the time to recognize before. Now when I look at another human being, I can look into his or her soul and sense their insecurities, and recognize the pain the feel each day: for broken promises, lost loves, and the inevitability of failure and loneliness. I know things. I don't consider myself to be of the caliber of Edgar Cayce or Michele de Nostradamus, but I have premonitions. I sense things coming--simple things like knowing when a friend is about to call; knowing when its going to be "good" or "bad" news; knowing when someone will be sick . . . feeling the presence of death within someone with a terminal condition.
I know other things. I told "M" a friend of mine that Bill Clinton would be politically assassinated on August 18, 1998. I wrote that on a sheet of paper in November, 1996, and told her to keep it to prove me correct when it happened. In a manner of speaking, he was "politically" assassinated with the Lewinsky scandal when he spoke to the nation and admitted his guilt. However, the date was too exact to be a lucky guess, especially since I knew of it 2 years before it happened. I don't have a crystal ball or any magic spells of incantation. It happens like this: Someone may ask, "What do you think will happen to Dan Smith during his heart operation?" I will focus and it will come to me and I offer a statement or two. One constant of the process is that I never feel emotion towards the things I feel or "see" so to speak. I feel somewhat disconnected from their sorrow. Maybe that is the only way I am able to maintain pure thought. Some people say I have luck at guessing and that could be true, but than how come I can't pick lotto numbers to save my life.
I try to focus and control this "new" knowledge, but it is difficult to do so since part of me doubts its validity and the other part of me worries about becoming a "conduit" for something I cannot control completely. I do not consider myself a religious person or for that matter an advocate of secularized religion. However, I am quite spiritual. It has been several years since the accident, I feel like that voice, that thing I experienced is my guardian angel. He has become my greatest source of strength. I now feel guilty when I consider acting or speaking in ways that may hurt others. It's like a burning sensation that overwhelms me. I can best equate it to the feeling you may have had as a child. Remember, when you would sneak out to the kitchen and take that extra cookie before dinner and think that if no one saw you, than you must have gotten away with it? Similarly, I find it difficult to hurt others behind their backs. I feel that every time I act callously towards another, my angel is looking at me in such disappointment wondering if I will ever recognize the gift of knowledge that he has given me. I am so afraid of failing him or dishonoring him that I tend to act with greater clarity and precision towards others. My flaw is that I speak the truth regardless of the context of the situation in which I may find myself.
Each day I heal myself a little more by healing others. I speak to others curious about my experiences to help them to realize that there is so much more to our existence than what we experience in our common daily routines. I guess I just want people to know that know matter how troublesome life may seem we are not alone. Love can heal the sickest heart. Love can make a difference. We each are destined to experience at least one moment in our life when we feel completely isolated and despondent. This is the moment in which we stare into the abyss of the unknown and find our character by taking a "leap of faith" for ourselves, for those we love, and for God. Remember that love makes the difference and that God is with us in all things.
The common attribute in most NDE's is the brilliant light. How can so many people have the same hallucination as the 'experts' suggest? theblogmeister