The voice in my head had a face and a name. The creatures all had stories. I had a purpose. I remembered my experience with full clarity; sight, smell, touch, emotion – it was all there. I understood immediately that my accident was not an accident. The car I swerved to miss; the voice in my head was real; I had left my dead body on that operating table and traveled further than I could have ever imagined; and I had come back with a mission. I limp into the house on crutches and got a notebook and pencil from the desk, and I started writing down everything I remembered, starting from the beginning. I notated my memory of the accident, I wrote about the voice in my head and the effect it had on my survival before and during the trip to the hospital, I described as best I could the uncomfortable feeling of being in limbo. I wrote for hours, making notes on the edges of the paper when I remembered some small detail. I became exhausted less than half way through my story; both the physical and emotional impact of remembering and writing was taking its toll on my mending body. I struggled my way onto the couch and laid down for a nap. I was rewarded with such peaceful and complete sleep! I again floated on the warm velvety air as a spiritual traveler, visiting my own memories; each new memory more beautiful and intoxicating than the one before it. Alien, both in true spider-like form and its humanoid form walked beside me, its voice in my head, its emotions, calm and happy, swimming through my veins. When I awoke, I knew I had been dreaming, but I also knew that it was not gone; that it was encouraging me from some distant place. Refreshed and starving, I rolled into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich for lunch. As I ate, I reviewed what I had written. Butterflies of excitement swam through my stomach as I read my scrawled hand-writing, and each memory sprang to life – full of emotion and wonder.
Understanding was dawning; my mind had been working perfectly. Something extraordinary had happened to me, something unique and important. My life would never again be monotonous or tedious if I chose to acknowledge what I had learned. I had seen things that changed the way I saw the world – and the universe. We were not alone, and I had been given the knowledge. I went back out to the porch and wrote under the warm sun, sipping water and occasionally staring at the mountain beside our property. The light I had seen was gone, but something about the scenery drew me in. Something unknown was still nagging at my mind. I tried to grasp it for a while, but then decided to let it rest. I still had a lot of writing to do. I had been writing all day and had filled over 10 pages of my notebook. The bulk of what I experienced was there, but little details were continuously trickling into my mind. I began writing those details on the margins of the pages, near where they fit into the story, but the margins were soon full and I had to start a new page, When I woke up in the hospital, I started seeing things – no – not seeing things, but remembering things; things that didn’t make sense. I thought that I was dreaming, or that my mind was damaged – it’s not, I know it’s not – but that is what I thought for a while. These images…they...Hmmm. This isn’t coming out right.” I took another drink of the big red soft drink and searched for the right words, feeling like the fate of the world rested on my ability to do this right. My long time friend Tim showed up who also suffered a near death experience when he was drawn into and aircraft engine and live to tell about it, and his young son Jack was with him, who later survived a 200 mile and hour jet car crash. His long journey in the life after death experience, and the airforce UFO sightings. I have ask Jack what did he remember in his death-life state, And he told me he didn't remember anything. I have felt at times a engery-force that surrounds Jack even in his youth he was born for a mission in years to come.
When I died on the table I said to Tim? I went somewhere. A lot of places, actually. I saw things, and learned things, that can change the world we know. I wrote it all down today. Well, most of it anyway. I’m sure I missed some stuff – more keeps coming back to me a little at a time. I pushed the notebook across the table to him. Tim with his big smile was holding his composure. He took the notebook, opened to the first page, and started reading. I watched his face as he read. His expressions changed regularly, from concern to curiosity to awe and back again. Every few pages he would glance up at me, as if to see if I was playing an elaborate joke on him. Halfway through, I went inside and got two more cokes for us. When he was done, he closed the notebook gently and slid it to the center of the table. I waited, as he stared across our lawn at the mountain beside us; his eyes not focusing on anything. I knew he was looking for the words. This is crazy. It wasn’t an accusation. How do you know this is real? He tapped the notebook and looked into my eyes over his glass's as only he could do. “I feel it.” I said simply. My mind couldn’t make that stuff up. I don’t understand said Tim. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve been on drugs, you died in that hospital, who knows what a brain can come up with if it’s been…” He didn’t finish that sentence, but I understood. He didn’t believe me. He thought it was all a figment of my imagination. My friend, I know how it sounds. I know I sound completely nuts, the alien guided me to all of those places, it showed me so much, It was so beautiful and amazing. I was ranting now, and it hit me that ranting wasn’t going to help. I reached for my soda and took another drink. Tim sighed and looked over the yard again. “Well, if nothing else, it’s entertainment isn’t it?
Tim grins, I think you have an overactive imagination, but just in case I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt, and I will take this alien drawing home with me for safe keeping. I was told later by his son Jack that they had hid the alien painting upstairs because its was haunted. It wasn’t what I was hoping for. I had wanted someone to really believe me. I wanted someone to ask me questions and share my excitement. I wanted to tell someone about the beauty and the emotion and the awesome power I witnessed. But…this was a start. I spent the rest of that month filling in the notebook, writing down details and drawing images of the things I had seen. I was irritated by my lack of artistic ability, but managed pretty good interpretations of everything except the alien in its true form. I could not create the raw power and beauty on paper or canvas, and so I quit trying, afraid that my juvenile attempts would just be insulting. I learned that I could summon the memories into vivid clarity just by focusing and concentrating on something specific. If I closed my eyes and thought about my being a spiritual traveler and the thoughts would drift into my mind with such clarity that I would again feel their warmth. I was able to move around in my memories so that I could capture every detail, which I wrote down or drew. This method of memory became so comforting to me that I spent much of my days sitting in my chair on the porch, eyes closed, reliving as much as I could. There were still bits and pieces that didn’t seem complete, and I tried to grasp little bits and expand them to the whole picture. Occasionally I would be able to clarify something and would spend the rest of the day giddy about my success. I also used the computer to try to find others like me. I chatted with people who had near-death experiences, and questioned many people who had claimed to be abducted by aliens.
No one I talked to seemed to have the same kind of intense, all-encompassing experiences that I had. It was discouraging to learn that I was the only one, but occasionally someone would describe something that was very similar and I would feel a rush of hope. My promise to myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone else kept me from sharing what had happened to me with the others, but I was still able to break my shell of seclusion a little bit. Many of the stories I heard sounded fabricated, but, then again, so did mine.
I researched who was in the tower and what they saw at Godman Field. When a pilot had his fatal encounter with a UFO. The Kentucky State Police barracks reporting the presence of a UFO circular in appearance, moving westward very fast. The two tower personal had already seen the UFO on the tower's radar set. Taking a pair of eight-power binoculars, they look out the tower's south window. They see a large silvery saucer as it buzzes the airfield. One of the pilots said I am going after it, his plane crashed a few minutes later and the pilot was killed. There was apparently no autopsy on the pilot? No doctor statement? No one knows what became of the wreckage?. The description from a farmer at the crash scene stated later that a UFO brought this plane down. They was other alien crash sites and government “cover-ups”. I learned everything I could, from serious writers to comic books. Much of the information corroborated my experience, but so much of what I had seen was well beyond the imagination of others. My thoughts was why am I allowed to peer at the other side an return?
This near death experience, was a life altering event. This incredibly personal experience proves to me there is in fact life after death. This supernatural experience of temporarily death. I now find myself in a state of unpleasant limbo, at times an uneasy feeling about being alive. First thing I noticed was being alone, then a deep feeling of cheating death..Why I didn't have any memories about loved ones on earth when I enter the life after death? Burdened by knowledge thats irrelevant on this earthly scale, and not as enlightened as one might think of where i had been. what I saw of these experiences and how I perceive them cannot be explained away easily. All things considered this event had created a turmoil in my mind and to a much lesser extent still does.********* The End ************************************************
copyright (C) 2009-2010 zteck.com All Rights Reserved.