I don’t remember feeling any fear, but I was intensly curious. When I finally passed through the light, I felt a strange sense of wrongness. Like something was not quite right. Many realizations flooded into my mind: I had been here before; this was not the end; friends were here; many things awaited me. Most of all and clearest of all was the thought ‘You don’t belong here yet!’ That was the wrongness I felt: I wasn’t supposed to be there yet. The next instant it was dark again. When I opened my eyes, I was in a room with a nurse asking me how I felt.
In 1988, on my way to work, I was involved in a near-fatal motorcycle accident. By all rights, I should have been dead. The type of accident I had, the injuries I did suffer, and by the reports I’ve heard and read; I should have died as a result of that accident. Everyone admits that it was surprising that I survived it. That accident erased all memory from the time I went to bed the night before, until around 3:30 that afternoon. However, what I’ve never told anyone is that I do have a memory of something happening while I was unconcious.
This memory begins shortly after the accident. I’m several feet above my body, looking down on the scene. Dust was still settling around me as I had ended up on the shoulder of the road. I could see a couple of people approaching my body and could faintly hear some voices: “Is he dead?” “Someone call 9-1-1.” I could hear other voices, but was unable to make out the words.
As I was moving backwards, away from the scene, I continued to look at my body. The edges of my vision were blurring— vanishing into darkness like I was looking through a tunnel. I could see that my helmet had come off and my head was covered with blood. My body was lying half on my back—half on my right side. My left leg was bent at the knee with my left ankle lying under my right leg. My left forearm was folded up under my body. My right arm laid out like it was pointing back towards the accident. My vision began getting smaller, the blackness rushing in from all sides, when I began to feel the familiar pull from behind.
As I turned around, I could feel myself rushing forward at a tremendous rate of speed. I seemed to be in a large tunnel, rushing toward a dazzling glow that sparkled ahead of me. Again, I was able to sense others around me, but not all of them were moving towards the light as I was. The rest were just waiting around and I got the feeling that they were afraid to enter or go near the light. But I didn’t feel any fear. After all, I had been in the light before and knew what awaited me. Those of us who were moving, seemed to start moving ever faster as we neared the light. I sensed another presence near me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the dazzling glow in front of me. The presence seemed to take my hand and began to plead with me. I can’t say that I actually heard the words, but they were in my mind, nonetheless. I got the meaning of the thoughts of this other presence: I was needed by others and should not enter the light. I was unable to understand why I shouldn’t enter the light, because I had entered it before. I tried to ask the presence next to me as to the reason I was needed. The thoughts came back to me disjointed and seemed vaguely distressing. Those thoughts became almost a painful uneasiness in my head, but I knew that I could not stop. I had to get to that light, with or without my companion. I begged that other presence to come into the light with me, but once again it claimed that I shouldn’t enter the light because I was needed. I felt myself being slowed by the presence that was clasping my left hand. I cried out “NO!” and shook myself free. I felt a shock of pain shoot up my left arm and explode in my brain as the other presence fell away from me. Then I shot forward and entered the welcoming, dazzling glow.
Several impressions made their way into my mind at once. The pain in my head was gone; love was paramount here; all who came were welcome; I knew others here; I was known by others here. I had been here before; not once, but many times and I knew each of those occurrences.
Thoughts were coming to me again, this time from a brightness right in front of me. I was welcomed here, but it was again too soon for my ‘journey.’ I was still needed elsewhere. I had to return to my body to accomplish the task set for me. And then I was suddenly not there any longer.
I suddenly became aware that I was lying on something soft, on my back. Pain entered my awareness—my left wrist; my left leg below the knee; my right leg, inside thigh; my back; and more than anything else, my head. I sense someone near me and try to turn my head in that direction. I can’t, because of a neck brace and pillow braces on each side of my head. I open my eyes and see Bonnie standing there. I recognize her, but nothing else.
I have a hard time talking because my mouth is so dry. Finally, Bonnie is able to understand me. I want to know where I am, what happened to me and can I please have something to drink?
Bonnie replies that I can’t have anything to drink because “they” don’t know if I have any internal injuries. She also says that I’ve asked those exact same questions over and over again since she got there. I don’t remember saying anything before now. She lets me know that I’ve been in an accident and where I am. I ask her for the time, she tells me. I close my eyes and groan. She gets concerned. I ask her to call my work and let them know what has happened. She says that she’s already done that.
Bonnie asks me what do I mean when I asked: “What is needed of me? What do I have to do?” I recall looking at her for a few seconds and then say, “I don’t know.” I’m not about to tell anyone about the light, the presences or anything else. I have a great fear that someone will think I’m crazy and put me away, lock me up in an asylum. I don’t know if I could take it if people thought I was insane. I also have an overwhelming fear of not being in full control of all my capabilities. I’m certain that if I’m put in an asylum, I’ll be given some kind of drugs that will make me unable to do for myself. (That’s the one, main reason why I don’t take drugs, drink heavily or smoke grass. I won’t take any foreign substances into my body, unless they are prescribed by a doctor. And I have some reservations there, too.)
I know what questions are going to be asked by anyone who reads this. They are the same questions that everyone asks of those who relate near-death experiences: “What’s on the other side of the light? What happens when we die? Is there a God? Is there an afterlife?” All of these questions are important and the answers are complex. I don’t know if I can answer them to anyone’s complete satisfaction.
For instance: “ls there an afterlife?” Life after what? Life— Death—some form of limbo? An afterlife for what? The body— the soul—the conscious being of each of us? What part of me started on that journey? My soul—my consciousness—or my unconcious being? I certainly don’t know!
Two questions can be combined, and answered the same way: “What’s on the other side of the light?” and “What happens when we die?” The other side IS the light. Light is everywhere. Everything is the light. When we die, we go into this light. We become the light. The light becomes us. Once we have entered the light, though, that is not our final destination. That final destination is each person’s own interpretation—Hell— Heaven—Valhalla. The end result is what each person perceives it to be… at the end of their journey! And their own perception may change many times throughout their journey. Each journey is over when it is perceived to be over, and not until.