Today I will present a second case of what I call a ‘Healing NDE’.
From Joel Hall on his blog ‘Simply Put’, here is the first part and the end of the account of all that happened: the second part I’ll put up also, but in a second stage, I’ll explain later why.
Death, Where is Thy Sting?
Posted on August 5, 2010 by Joel Hall
© Copyright 2009, 2010 by Joel R. Hall – All Rights Reserved
Although it might sound like fiction, this is a true story. Strangely enough, this story starts with my death. Yes, my physical death. Granted, I didn’t stay that way, otherwise, you wouldn’t be reading this now. No, I only got to pay a little visit home before being sent back here to complete my purpose. Part of that purpose is the writing of this story.
I will attempt to fulfill that part of my purpose as accurately and completely as possible. Having said that, I can not guarantee that my memories are 100% completely accurate. The best I can do is avow that I have striven with every once of my being to recount them as accurately and honestly as humanly possible, and I can attest that the essence of the story has been accurately preserved.
Before I begin, let me simply and clearly state that practically every experience or event described during the time in which I was not inhabiting my body is, at best, a pale metaphor. It is simply impossible to accurately describe what I experienced in terms that are directly analogous to the “normal” experiences processed by the brain of a living human being. My “senses” while dead were somewhat similar to those we employ while in a living human body, but would best be described as augmented. And, since human languages were created to describe the experiences collected through the sensory organs of living bodies, they therefore prove woefully inadequate when trying to describe experiences gathered through these augmented senses. Consequently, please bear with me as I struggle to describe my experiences while body free, knowing that my description will be, at best, an approximation of what I experienced. And now, the story.
It all started around 10:30 A.M. on Thursday, October 28, 1976. At that time in my life, I was a confused 18 year old from College Station, Texas. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and had elected to take a year off between high school and college to “find myself”. I was living at my parent’s house and had taken a job selling men’s blue jeans at the J.C. Penny store located in the Manor East Mall of neighboring Bryan, Texas. I had arrived at work around 9:45 A.M. to start my shift at 10:00. As required, I was dressed in suit and tie, which I thought an odd thing to wear when selling jeans, but, rules are rules and my boss, Mr. M, was nothing, if not a strict adherent to rules.
Mr. M was around 35 to 40 years old, fairly tall, balding, with a bit of a middle age paunch. To the best of my ability to tell, there were two groups of people he detested. The first group was college students. I suspect that he envied them their future once they had a degree with which they would quickly bypass men like himself on the corporate ladder. The second group, which he detested even more than the first, was college age kids that weren’t in college. In other words, me. I worked hard for Mr. M, but no amount of effort was ever enough. If I cleaned the changing rooms and returned all the stock back to the racks in perfect order, he would nonetheless complain that I had taken too long or that I had left too many pins lying about the dressing room floors. In short, he made my life while at work as miserable as possible. In his defense, I suspect he was trying to do me a favor by giving me a reason to quit that dead end job and get enrolled in school.
At any rate, my shift began in the standard way. I had ensured that the changing rooms were clear and ready and went about ensuring that all the stock was properly sorted on the racks. Along about 10:20, a beautiful young coed from Texas A&M University approached me asking for help. She explained that she had been trying to find jeans in the Lady’s Department but since none of them fit her the way she liked, would I mind helping her to find a pair of men’s jeans in a specific size since in the past, men’s jeans in that size tended to fit her better than any pair of lady’s jeans she had ever tried on. I must admit that my enthusiasm for this task was a bit higher than usual due to the striking beauty of this lovely customer. I took her over to the racks and began to search for the specified size. I quickly concluded that we did not have any in that size on the floor, but I was positive we had them in our warehouse. Assuring my customer that I would be back shortly, I headed for the warehouse door. Once through, I headed for the farthest corner of the farthest recess where the jeans were kept. Our warehouse had an unusual L shape with one of the arms being rather long and narrow. It was down this narrow arm that the jeans were kept. I remember thinking to myself as I wound my way between boxes heading for the jeans area that “I could die back here and no one would find me for weeks”. Little did I know at the time how close I came to having that thought become reality.
Once I arrived at the boxes of jeans, I began to dig in the box that I knew contained the size requested. It was a rather large box, being almost a perfect yard cube, about half full of jeans. I was bent over digging through the contents when a very odd thing happened. Suddenly, it felt as if someone tapped me very lightly on the back of my head, right at the crown. This was odd for two reasons. One, there was no one else around and two, it would have been extremely difficult for anyone to reach that spot with the way I was bent over. But the sensation was very distinct and surprised me so much that I started and stood up very suddenly. The moment I stood up, however, I realized that something was wrong: VERY WRONG. I instantly felt absolutely terrible. I was, quite literally, deathly ill. The room lurched and I became so weak that I feared I would collapse on the spot. My recent thought about dieing in that dark recess rang in my head and the fear it evoked in me gave me the strength to struggle back toward the entrance. It was slow going. I was weak, dizzy, and disoriented, but somehow I managed to get back to the entrance and reenter the store. I staggered through the aisle back towards the jeans department, clinging to clothing racks, shelves, counters… anything to help me stay upright. I finally made it back to my area and saw Mr. M standing with his back to me having a conversation with another associate. It was my good fortune that they were right next to my department for I fear I would not have lasted long if I had needed to search for him.
As I approached, I spoke with a drunken sounding slur: “Mr. M, I don’t feel very well.” The moment I spoke, I could see the red rise up the back of his neck and his shoulders clinch. He whirled on me, exposing a red faced mask of disgust and anger, ready to unleash what was probably an angry exposition on my need to get back to work. I will never know what it was that he had originally intended to say, however, since upon seeing me, he froze in place while his expression changed quite rapidly from anger to astonishment and then to what almost looked like fear. It was as if he was looking at a ghost. During this transformation, he uttered not a word, but when he did finally speak, he uttered the one phrase that none of the stunned associates within earshot had ever thought him capable: “Good God. You look terrible. Go home right now.” If I had not felt so totally out of it, I probably would have laughed at the stunned looks of amazement on the faces of the other associates. But upon looking from him to me, they also adopted the visage of those gazing upon a ghost. I must have looked REALLY bad.
I stumbled through the jeans department, through the passage into the employees “lounge”, checked out, and stumbled out of the building to my car. In reality, I stumbled to my sister’s car. Of all the “coincidences” that occurred during this sequence of events, the fact that I was driving my sister’s car that day was probably one of the most unlikely. Given the condition I was in at the time, there would have been absolutely no way I would have been able to drive a manual transmission vehicle. I barely had enough coordination left to start the car. So it was somewhat miraculous that I wasn’t driving my manual transmission ’72 Bug. Instead, due to some sort of quantum flux in the space time continuum surrounding my older sister which had occurred the previous weekend, I was driving her automatic transmission ’74 Monte Carlo.
To this day, I can think of no logical explanation for this. All I can do is relate the basic scenario. My Bug was actually a hand-me-down from my older sister via my older brother. It had been her first car given to her as a gift by my grandparents upon the occasion of her 16th birthday. She had driven it until her graduation from high school in 1973 at which point, my grandparents gave her a new Monte Carlo as a graduation present. It was a shu-wweet ride: V8, plush seats, power everything… I loved that car. But I had never been allowed to even sit behind the wheel, no less drive it, in the entire time she owned it… until that week and never again afterward.
She had been visiting from Houston the previous weekend and out of the blue asked if I would mind trading cars with her so she could “drive the Bug for old times sake?” I didn’t hesitate. We traded keys and I found myself cruisin’ around town in the car of my dreams. But what I still do not understand is why. It is not now and was not then the sort of thing my sister would do. It was just plain weird. But for whatever reason, the car I found myself driving on my delirious way home from work that day was a ’74 Chevrolet Monte Carlo and not a ’72 VW Bug. Granted, I had no business driving anything. I was far worse off then most drunk drivers would ever be. I should have been riding in an ambulance, not piloting a car.
Somehow, I managed to turn left out of the parking lot onto Villa Maria road and made it all the way to where Villa Maria dead ended into Finfeather. The last thing I remember from that drive was passing over the railroad tracks that ran between Welborn Rd and Finfeather and then stopping at the blinking red light. The next thing I remember was waking up in the driveway of my Mother’s house with the engine still running. I must have driven the rest of the way in some sort of stupor, because I have absolutely no idea how I got home. At the time, I was too disoriented to worry about it, so I just turned off the car and staggered into the house.
Once I entered the house, I was beyond the point of being able to think straight. I was quite literally on death’s doorstep. I couldn’t even think to say anything to my mother who was washing dishes as I passed through the kitchen toward the living room. All I could think of was to sit down somewhere before I fell down. So I shuffled through without saying a word and collapsed into an easy chair in the living room. My mother remarked that I was home early for lunch and asked me what I wanted. All I could manage to get out was “I don’t feel good.” Upon hearing this, she turned off the water which had been running in the sink and came out of the kitchen drying her hands on a dish towel. As soon as she saw me, her face got that “seeing a ghost” look and she immediately shifted into Dr. Mom mode. I will never forget her placing her still damp hand on my forehead to check for fever. She told me later that she knew something was very wrong when she saw the moisture from her hand evaporate off my forehead in an instant. After telling me that I was “burning up”, she proceeded to retrieve two aspirin and send me to bed.
Somehow I managed to stay on my feet long enough to make it into my room and even get my clothes off. I don’t remember doing it, but I must have for I ended up in bed wearing only my underwear. I collapsed on the bed and managed to pull the covers over myself before completely passing out. I immediately descended into a very deep sleep. In fact, I descended so deeply that I came out the other side: I died. I don’t know how long I slept before my death. It must have been at least thirty minutes but it could have easily been over an hour. I simply don’t know. All I do know is that at some point not too long after I lost consciousness, I came through the other side of unconsciousness into a whole different kind of consciousness.
It happened gradually, rather like waking up slowly after a nice night’s sleep. The first thing I can remember upon “waking” was an awareness of total stillness. Up until that moment, I had never realized exactly how much our sleeping brains process all sorts of stimuli. It’s not like our bodies turn off the inputs while sleeping. It’s more that our brain chooses to ignore the vast majority of that input. Of course, a loud, sudden sound or other extreme input will indeed cause our brains to restore us to consciousness, which just goes to show that the inputs are indeed working. But I had never realized exactly how much we really are aware of our surroundings while sleeping until that moment. Indeed, we see, hear, smell, feel, and taste even while deeply asleep. But when I “woke up”, for the first time in my experience, it was absolutely silent, absolutely dark, absolutely still.
At first, I didn’t realize what was going on. I realized that I was conscious in that I could clearly think and assess my situation, but I couldn’t quite figure out why I couldn’t sense anything. All I knew was that I was awake and I was completely cut off from everything and seemed to be hovering in absolute darkness. I really didn’t have an opportunity to process this state of affairs, however, since almost instantly, my still state was interrupted by an odd sensation unlike any I had ever experienced before. So odd, in fact, that it defies description. The closest I have ever been able to come is to liken it to the drawing sensation created by holding the hose of a vacuum cleaner up to your skin. I felt like I was being drawn out of my body, most specifically out of my head. The result was that I suddenly found myself “lying” on the ceiling of my room staring down at my now still body.
It was a very odd experience to look down upon myself. In my previous life, I would have imagined that I would be upset or frightened by that sight, but in that moment, all I felt was peace. I had absolutely no emotional upset whatsoever. In fact, it was perhaps the greatest sense of peace I had ever experienced. I can remember quite clearly gazing upon my lifeless body and thinking to myself, in the most ordinary, matter of fact way, “I’m dead.” To give you some sense of the “tone” of my inner voice when thinking this, it would have been about the same tone used to say something like, “Hmmm, grass is green.” On the other hand, something odd was going on in my consciousness: multitasking. I remark on this since, like most men and unlike most women, I rarely, if ever, multitask. But it wasn’t just multitasking in the normal sense of that word. This was mega-multitasking. It wasn’t just that I was able to process two, three, or even four things simultaneously. It was much more than that. It went beyond processing thoughts. I was suddenly able to observe everything around me all at one shot. It was like spherical awareness and this awareness was not constrained by physical barriers, either. I could see through things which allowed me to see my body through the covers but simultaneously see the covers over my body. It was very wild!
While I was looking at my body, I was also examining the house around me. In a single instant I noted that I was alone, which mildly surprised me since my mother and grandfather had been home when I had collapsed into bed. In that single instant I “saw” that they were gone and that my grandfather’s car was no longer in the driveway, and I saw EVERYTHING else concerning the state of the house and grounds instantly. My brain processed this information by focusing on those things that were most important from my perspective, but I was acutely aware that I could “see” everything, or at least, choose to be aware of anything I wanted.
After a brief period, I once again felt that vacuum cleaner sensation, except this time it was drawing me through the ceiling. In an instant I found myself in a very dark, very still place, much like it felt while still in my body with the exception that I had the sense that this space was much larger. After a very short moment of dark stillness, everything changed. I felt as if I were accelerating at a VERY high rate through the pitch blackness. It was like no acceleration I had ever experienced before and had me, even in the midst of the sensation, wondering how it was that I could possible “feel” acceleration since I didn’t seem to have a body and I had always assumed that it required a body to “feel” acceleration. Be that as it may, that was exactly what I “felt”. This sensation went on for a LONG time, which eventually led me to wonder how “fast” I must be going since such a long period of such extreme acceleration would surely mean that I was going way faster than any object I had ever heard of in the “real universe”. In fact, I was wondering if I had not left the speed of light far behind and was now hurtling at unimaginable speeds. But that was just conjecture as I had nothing else to occupy my thoughts at the time. For some reason, I don’t ever remember questioning where I was going. I know that sounds strange. It even sounds strange to me, as I would previously have assumed that would be the first and foremost thought in the mind of someone freshly departed, but for whatever reason, it never even crossed my mind.
The dark acceleration went on and on until I began to think it would never end. With no light, it was impossible to gauge my speed or determine if there was anything whizzing by me. Just at the point when I finally began to wonder if I was going to simply accelerate forever, a very, very, very small (atomic) white dot suddenly appeared as if suspended in space in front of me. Before I had time to think or in any way react, the dot suddenly exploded into a round “portal” much like the end of a tunnel. This happened so fast, that I could only barely perceive it and in the next instant, the acceleration and darkness were gone. I had emerged into the highest expression of wonderful, beautiful, fascinating, astounding, fabulous, amazing, awe inspiring, indescribable place / existence / community / presence / totality / Love that exists. I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, peaceful, excited, amazed… I knew immediately who I was encountering. The Joy and Love that flooded over me in that moment were infinite. There are no words in any language sufficient to even come close to describing who and what I experienced in that Now. Nonetheless, I will try.
The closest analogy I can come up with for what I experienced upon exiting from the dark acceleration tunnel is that it felt like being a fish awash in an infinite, living, sentient Ocean of Light and Joy and Love. The Ocean had the appearance of liquid crystal filled with the purest Light imaginable. However, it would be inaccurate to describe the Light as being separate from the liquid crystal of the Ocean. The Light was the liquid crystal.
And much as crystal on earth refracts light in such a way as to appear filled with a rainbow of colors, so too was this Ocean filled with glints of rainbow colors. And what colors they were! Every color you have ever perceived with your earthly eyes was indeed present, but these were but a small subset of all the colors flashing through the Ocean. The sheer range of hues was beyond imagining. And these glints of color were not merely a trick of refraction. They were alive! They lived in the Ocean and the Ocean lived in them, but they were distinct from the Ocean. In fact, I myself may have been one of these glints. (I don’t know for sure since I never thought to look at myself.)
And the glints were more than just light. The Ocean was filled with music which seemed to emanate from the glints. Each one had it’s own tune and yet somehow managed to blend perfectly with a symphony comprised of the sum of all the disparate glint tunes. And the colors emitted by the glints varied with the music in such a way that the collection of the colors of the glints also combined to make a grand pattern similar to the music. Combined, the symphony of music and light created a synergy of light and sound that redefines the idea of music. As if this combination of aural and visual coherence were not enough, I could also “feel”, “taste”, and “smell” the musical color symphony. This is, of course, makes no sense from the perspective of how our bodies process colors and sounds in our earthly experience, but in the Crystal Ocean, it made complete and perfect sense. In fact, I instantly realized that our earthly experience is actually a dim shadow of the augmented senses of the Crystal Ocean existence, as if putting on flesh hides from us the true nature of our senses.
The effect of this was almost overwhelming in it’s beauty and power, but even as I floated in dumbstruck awe at the sheer fractal beauty of it all, I was simultaneously fully aware of the fact the the Ocean itself was alive. It was more than alive. It was Life. And emanating from the Ocean and from the glints was a warm, glorious, palpable feeling of Love. I had never known the meaning of Love until that moment. I felt fully accepted, fully appreciated, and fully understood. Of all that I experienced in that initial flood of stimuli, that was the most powerful. I was flooded with Joy and Peace and a sense of echoing the Love back to its source. It was wonderful!
I recognized the Ocean. I had sensed that Love to a smaller degree on Earth. It was my Lord, the redeemer of my life. I was home at last.
I don’t know how long I floated there soaking in the experience before the Ocean communicated with me. It could have been a second. It could have been a lifetime. Time made no real sense in that Now. All I know is that communicate with me the Ocean did.
I use the word communicate because this wasn’t speech in the sense of what we use to communicate on earth. It was somewhat like speech, but really more like thought, conveying much more than spoken communication could ever do. There was absolutely no ambiguity and each meaning, much as the music, affected all the senses. This was palpable communication. However, for the sake of this account, I will refer to this as a conversation using the words of speech, such as said, heard, spoke, etc. This is simply a convenience to convey the meanings without constantly having to try to describe the sum of all I experienced as that would be too cumbersome. What follows is the small bit of conversation I remember with Yeshua’s words in italics. In addition to the words, I am including the emotions that accompanied them in parentheses. Be advised that some of what I write here would normally be considered internal dialog only heard by me, but in this setting, it was all part of my dialog with Him. The conversation started with Yeshua speaking my name.
*** begin 1st remembered conversation snippet, beginning with Yeshua ***
Joel… (Very warm and full of Love, but also somewhat amused.)
Yes. (I love you too! Wow! This is great! I’m so glad to be here! etc)
We have much to discuss before you return. (Gentle, concerned, and consoling.)
What?!? Return?!? I just got here! I’m not going back! (Angry, hurt, scared.)
*** end 1st remembered conversation snippet ***
As you may have noticed, there isn’t much to this “conversation”. The reason for this is quite simple: the conversation was much longer but I can’t remember anything else specifically until the very end. This is very hard to explain. I know we talked. I know it was a very long conversation. I know that the topic was my life: past, present, and future. I even can vaguely recall some of the emotions I experienced during that conversation. I simply can not remember the specifics. The closest analogy I have ever been able to come up with to describe my memory of that conversation is to liken it to a long letter written in ink upon a sheet of paper which was subsequently dropped in water, causing the ink to run and smear to the point that it is possible to tell that there were indeed words written on the paper but impossible to make them out. You might be able to pick out a word here or there, and might even be able to discern the topic, but anything beyond that simply can not be retrieved. The next bit of conversation that I can specifically recall was when He said to me:
*** begin 2nd remembered conversation snippet ***
And now it is time for you to return. (Gentle. Happy. Proud. Encouraging.)
(Happy. I knew I had chosen to go back. Anticipating. Determined. Filled with purpose.)
*** end 2nd remembered conversation snippet ***
I did not respond. There was no time. The moment He concluded His last statement, I was instantly rocketing back into the tunnel. The portal instantly shrank to an atomic white dot and then was gone. The whole trip back down the tunnel was exactly the opposite of the initial passage: a strong sense of deceleration that lasted for a very long time until, at last, I came to a complete stop. After a brief moment of stillness, I once again experienced that drawing sensation and shortly found myself back on the ceiling gazing once again upon my unmoving corpse.
It’s funny. That image is burned into my memory. My body was lying on its back with the right leg straight, the left leg bent and splayed slightly outward with the left foot up against the right calf, the left arm straight against the left side, the right arm bent with the right hand resting on the stomach, and the head turned slightly to the right.
I hovered there for a brief time before the drawing sensation began, and just before my augmented vision of my body faded into the blackness inside my skull, I saw the smallest flicker of movement from my heart. I was once more “alive”. I remained conscious inside my skull for a while, mulling over what I had just experienced, and then slowly “fell asleep” except in this case, it was more like rising than falling.
Then I woke up! I was still very, very ill and was no doubt delirious from my high fever, but the thing I was mostly was scared beyond description. I don’t think I have ever felt fear so strongly as I did in the instant of my waking. In my disoriented state, I was convinced that the end of the world was at hand and that I had been left behind. I struggled from my bed and wandered around the house calling out for anyone. After a short period of panic, I remembered that I had seen that I was alone while dead and realized that my mother had probably taken my grandfather to his doctor’s appointment. This allowed me to calm down and go back to bed. Once I lay back down, I went immediately to sleep.
As I mentioned earlier, I fell ill around 10:30 A.M. on a Thursday. I remained very ill, running a high fever and unable to eat or drink, all through Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and even into Sunday morning. During this time, I don’t think my temperature ever dropped below 102 Fahrenheit. When I did try to eat or drink, it came right back up. Most parents should probably have taken me to the E.R. very early during this period, but I was the son of a veterinarian who seemed convinced that any illness could be cured at home with the proper dose of tetracycline. At any rate, I languished in my ill and delirious state until early on Sunday when I had another very vivid dream. Unlike the previous dream, this one was very short. The whole dream consisted of the image of a humongous orange. In my dream, it appeared to be the size of a house and in my dream, I could smell that orange with an intensity that was overwhelming. As that smell washed over me I suddenly had the greatest food craving I have ever experienced. It hit me in a palpable wave while still immersed in my dream and stirred me so profoundly that I immediately awoke to full alertness as if I had been catapulted from dream to wakefulness in one instant. So rapid was the transition that I could still smell the orange and the craving was wrapping itself around my insides like a boa constrictor.
When I awoke, it was around 10:15 on Sunday morning. I sat up in bed and immediately began calling for my mother at the top of my lungs. The urgency in my voice brought her literally running into my room. Upon entering, she immediately asked me what was wrong while simultaneously reaching out the back of her right hand to feel my forehead. But before she could say more or even touch me I blurted out “Do we have any oranges?”
The question caught her off guard and she stopped dead in her tracks with a look of confusion on her face. After a moment’s thought she replied, “Yes, I think we have a few, but…”
“Good!” I interrupted. “Get them for me.”
I must have had a slightly lunatic look about me because my rude insistence upon having the oranges brought at once caused my mother to adopt a look of extreme concern and to complete her motion to feel my still quite feverish forehead. After assessing my fever, she stepped back and said, “You are still burning up and with the way your stomach has been acting, I think you aught to eat something a bit more bland.”
With every passing second, the boa constrictor of my orange craving further tightened around my stomach. I was becoming desperate! “Mom! Just bring me the oranges! All of them!”
She tried again to object but I would not hear of it. “Mom! Bring me the oranges!”, I insisted.
Finally, she gave in. With a roll of her eyes she turned to leave saying, “Let me see what we have.” She left the room still muttering leaving me to wrestle the boa. The craving was now so strong I could barely contain myself. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned saying, “All we have are these three”, and brandished the oranges, two in her left hand, one in her right.
As she approached, she said “Here, let me peel one for you.”, but as soon as she entered range, I snatched the orange from her right hand and practically shoved it down my throat, peel and all. I wish the scene had been captured on video because I’m sure it would have evoked howls of laughter to any that saw it. I must have looked like some sort of insane, starving monkey, snarfing down that orange whole with my shocked mother looking on, mouth flapping open and shut as she tried to speak through her disbelief at what she was watching. By the time she collected herself enough to say “Aren’t you going to peel that?”, the last of the orange was disappearing into my engorged mouth.
In answer, I simply grabbed the two remaining oranges and proceeded to stuff one in after the first. My mother was aghast at my behavior. From the look of fear and concern on her face, I suspect she truly believed I had taken full leave of my senses. This didn’t really register with me at that point, however, as my mind had ceased to process anything but the need to feed the orange craving boa in my gut. And so, as my mother continued to object to my feral eating behavior, I continued to send those poor innocent oranges into the maw of the beast that had taken up residence in my stomach. Within seconds I had devoured the second orange and had started on the third, while a river of pulp filled juiced coursed down my chin and throat. I didn’t care one bit. I have never tasted anything so wonderful as those oranges tasted in that moment. It was heavenly!
And then it was over. As I swallowed the last bite of the last orange, it was as if I suddenly awoke from a bad dream. My fever, aches, and nausea that had been the definition of my existence for the last three days was suddenly and completely gone. If it hadn’t been for the sticky glazing of pulpy orange juice covering my face, chest, and abdomen, it would almost have been as if the illness of the previous 72 hours had never existed.
Again, I would have loved to have this on video as I suddenly swung my feet out of bed and said to my mother, who still had that “I need to call the sanitarium” look on her face, “I feel great. I’m going to take a shower.”
The effect of this pronouncement on my mother was immediate and profound. Her look of fear and dismay deepened. She placed her hand on my shoulder to stop me saying, “Hold on right…” but the sentence faded away as the evidence of my now cool skin sank in from where she was touching my shoulder. The look on her face went from fear to puzzlement to surprised delight in a matter of seconds as she confirmed my lack of fever by placing both her hands on my forehead. Her shock at my sudden lack of fever and apparent health sent waves of puzzlement, amazement, and joy across her face as she confirmed and then confirmed again that all fever had fled. She even made me wait while she got a thermometer to verify that I was totally fever free, but I knew without a shadow of doubt that I was completely and totally well. In fact, I have rarely felt so healthy as I did in that moment.
Finally, after Dr. Mom had completed her exam, I departed my sick bed for the shower while she removed the sweat and orange juice soaked sheets for washing.
I don’t pretend to understand exactly what that was all about. I can only report what happened to the very best of my memory. All I know is that I fell deathly ill on Thursday, October 28, 1976 at around 10:30 A.M., died sometime later that day while lying in my bed at home alone, left my body, traveled into a Crystal Ocean of Light and Love that I recognized as my LORD, had a long conversation with that Light, returned to my body, had a prophetic dream about future events in my life, lay seriously ill until having a strange, powerful dream about an orange on the morning of Sunday, October 31, 1976, awoke with an overpowering craving to eat oranges, and, upon eating three unpeeled oranges, found myself suddenly and completely cured of my illness at around 10:30 A.M.