First presented in the Bulletin Board section of www.near-death.com, and re-printed here with the generous permission of Kevin Williams and the author.
As a teenager, I had several psychic experiences often occurring in dreams. As I grew older and life more hectic, these experiences diminished - almost disappeared until the pregnancy of my first child. Shortly after his birth, I had the most horrific dream that I would be in a terrible car crash that would take my life. For months I was terrified and was extremely cautious and on the lookout for that monster vehicle. By the time my son was 7 months old, I convinced myself that it was only a dream... nothing of what was to come. I had a brand new teaching position, a baby, a home, my husband to take care of...I had put too much energy into this thing.
Then it happened. I had left school right away that day. I wanted to pick up my son from his grandmother and hurry back to school to watch a baseball game. It was a picture perfect way to spend the afternoon with my son. As I was exiting the freeway with usual caution, I made a left hand turn on a light that had been green for some time. This was my lucky day I thought. Then in an instant, I was gone.
Immediately I was in the most beautiful serene place I had ever been. My grandfather, another person whom I had known in a previous life and a guardian were ready to help me with the transition. They told me of the accident, showed me the site. It was my time to come home they said. The overwhelming love and happiness of that place was so inviting. I could feel myself becoming lighter each moment. In a fit of fear and panic, I began crying. No, I couldn't be dead. What would happen to my son? He was seven months old! He would never remember me. His father didn't even know how to take care of him. I didn't want him raised by his father's parents. No, no, no...This was not the time to go. They were wrong.
In an embrace of love they calmed me by showing me that my son, my entire family would be okay after my death. My mother could lean on my grandmother. It would take time, but she would heal. My husband, hurt, sad, and lonely would also heal and eventually find love once again. Death is part of the lessons we are to learn on earth, and my death was an important lesson for those involved in my life. I was shown my funeral, taught how to be near those I loved and told I could eventually communicate with those whose spirits were open. I could accept this. They would be fine. I was feeling lighter all the time.
But wait...my son. I couldn't leave my son! Babies need their mommies. I needed to be his mommy. I couldn't let go. So much patience was shown to me - so much love. My guides explained that the feelings I was having were still a connection to my human side. Once my Human-ness wore off, I would feel light as air, utter happiness, and extreme love. Words do not do the feelings justice. They worked to help me throw off my human weight. The feelings were so great and seemed to pull me in stronger and stronger; yet my connection to my son was so strong. We wandered in this beautiful place for what seemed an eternity. We discussed my life, we discussed religion, and we discussed secrets of the soul that as humans we must forget, lest we'd never be able to thrive on earth. All the while, I was in awe. Some things were just as I always dreamed an afterlife would be; some I was just plain wrong and I remember thinking "wow". Where were my other loved ones? When could I see my other grandparents who had passed? In time - they were on a different plane. When my transition was complete, I could choose to go to other levels when I was ready.
Every now and then thoughts of my son would make me heavy once again. I couldn't bear the thought of him growing up without a mother. I was told others would be a mother for me. First grandparents, and then they showed me Jake's life. He was the most beautiful boy, so happy, but with a touch of sadness that seemed to pierce his soul. This was his lesson to tackle. He knew coming into this life the main lessons he was to learn. It was meant to be. I saw a new mom for Jake when he was about 7 or 8. A beautiful woman, kind hearted who definitely cared for Jake, and treated him well, but she was to have her own child with my widowed husband and the love she showed for her own child was different and unequal to the love she showed for my child - her stepchild. This isn't what I dreamed for Jake. This couldn't be. I was happy for my husband. He was okay. He was happy. My son was a different story.
Other lessons were learned in the constant-patient job of transitioning me to the other side. I had to let go. At times, I became hysterical and then moments later I was calm and serene. I saw a girl child, who had been meant in Jake's place, but before conception, plans changed and there was a need for Jake's spirit to take her place. There was much upheaval that Jake could help mend (and he did). At a time when I felt the closest to accepting my death, I experienced a resurge of sorrow and pain, longing for my son, for my life. I couldn't let go of my human life. My guides tried their hardest, they never gave up, they never became discouraged. It is unbelievable the amount of patience and love they exuded.
Finally, my hysteria was calmed by a higher spirit who seemed to envelop me in love. My guides were instructed to allow me to return. Despite their pleas to allow them more time, they were told that my spirit would not rest. It was best to let me return, to settle my spirit, learn further lessons. My pleading won my return for the time being. I understood before my descent that my friends and family had lessons that were being postponed, but they would have to learn the lessons at some point that my death taught. Arrangements were made for when, where, how my spirit would return; what lessons were I to have enriched or acquire new. Some lessons learned in my arrival on the other side would have to be forgotten, and it was not good for my soul to know when I was dying again or else as a human I would focus on only that, especially as the time neared.
The last things I remember were being taken back to the accident site, and just before my descent, I was told when my children were older it would be time to come home for good. I accepted it immediately, but then, wait! What qualifies as older? Does it mean only a few years older? Teenagers? Will I live to see them marry and have their own children? This was a difficult aspect to deal with immediately after the accident. I had a life with my son again. I had to spend it right for I had no idea how much longer I had left. I was told I was lucky to survive. A large utility truck ran a red light and hit the driver's side of my tiny compact car. Despite wearing a seatbelt, the doctors say I would not have survived if it were not for the airbags to open, something that is not supposed to happen in a side impact.
The first year after the accident was an attempt to live the best I could, the happiest I could. I was suffering however from severe pain from a fractured shoulder bone, broken ribs, and two hip fractures. I was told the pain should disappear in six months to a year at the worst. Three years later, the pain has not gone away. The second year however seemed to be the worst. I became so suicidal. All I wanted to do was to return to this place, this life that was so awesome, so love-filled, and so joyous. My son, and later my daughter were the only things that made me go on. I was here for them. Today, only three years later I have accepted my return to earth, long to return to my after-life home, and struggle to find peace and happiness until my time here comes to its final end.
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