floating above my body. I saw green
shower caps. The people in the room
all wore those stupid caps. There
were five or six caps and they were
panicky. Their fear was so thick
I could feel it. I kept thinking,
'Hey, I’m okay, don’t worry,' but
they didn't get my message. This
was a little frustrating.
myself in the right-hand corner
of the room. I lifted my arm and
stretched. I had been immobile for
so long. It felt like I had taken
off a body girdle, and it was so
delicious to get out of that cramped
body. I felt a wonderful feeling
wash over me - a sense of peace
and power. I felt love and a sense
of wonder as I realized that any
question I could come up with would
was Jesus. I was stunned and said,
"I don’t believe in you."
and said the etheric equivalent
of, "Tough #####, here I am."
in his eyes, I asked, "You mean,
you’ve been with me this whole time
and I didn’t know?"
reply was, "Lo, I am with thee,
always, even beyond the end of the
Now, I wasn’t
into 'lo' so I said, "Hey, man,
this is the seventies and we don’t
say lo. Come on."
of grinned, I guess I was amusing
him, and answered, "You want to
me a break," I yelled (only I made
no sound). "I just died. Don’t I
get a chance to rest?"
easy. It’s all right. You can change
your mind at any time."
"I don’t even believe in you and
now you want me to reincarnate?
continued. He even asked me to kiss
his feet. No way. I gave him a bear
hug and kissed his cheek. I got
the equivalent of a belly laugh.
I was so happy with him that words
were no longer necessary. We then
I was aware God was coming. I came
to know that I had needed a human-looking
Christ to relate to so I wouldn’t
be scared. The Light came and I
was given a choice - I could remain
trapped on earth, seeing and hearing
everything, but unable to help anyone,
not even my daughter (I was told
this was limbo), or I could stay
with God. I chose God.
Light in front of me was sorta like
a white light bulb only it was so
strong. I remember thinking my eyes
should be burning, but then I remembered
that I didn’t have any eyes to burn.
God was love and love was light,
and it was warm and it permeated
every molecule of me. This was so
delicious, I was crying with torrents
of tears that didn’t exist. It was
so enormous. I was loved. I didn’t
feel irrelevant. I felt humbled,
awed, and amazed. For a long time
after my near-death experience,
I ended my prayers with, "You are
my way of expressing appreciation.
was instantly zapped to a domed
room with square screens up and
down the walls, on the ceiling-hundreds
of television screens. On each screen
was a home movie of one event in
my life. The good, the bad, the
secret, the ugly, the special. Everything
was going on at once; nothing was
chronological. All was silent. When
you look at one screen, you focused
in, and you could hear what was
there. Not only words, but your
thoughts, your feelings, everything;
and when you looked at the other
people or animals, you could hear
their thoughts, their feelings,
too. And you made the connection
between these and the event which
ensued. You were filled with, not
guilt, but the strong sense of responsibility.
to me, "I gave you the precious
gift of life. What did you do with
in a puny, wimpish voice, "I’m only
twenty-three. I didn’t know I supposed
to do anything. I have a two-year-old
daughter. I spend my time and energy
a good answer, but it was the truth.
I was the judge and I was satisfied.
I guess that was what God wanted.
But the next time this happens,
I’m having a list ready. I now have
a card on my fridge that says, 'Practice
random kindness and senseless acts
a lot of questions, about sin, murder,
and such, and I got a lot of answers.
I was told that before we’re born,
we have to take an oath that we
will pretend time and space are
real so we can come here and advance
our spirit. If you don’t promise,
you can’t be born.
that the reason I was ripped away
from paradise was for my father.
He could not have taken my death.
He had a Jewish surname and a Jewish
nose, lived in France, and was a
doctor and captain in the French
army during World War II. At that
time, the French believed that Nazis
were their allies. He was on a hill
when he looked down and saw the
German army invading France. He
fled and just barely made it out
alive. He wound up in New York,
turned against any form of God or
religion, and became a stanch Freudian
psychoanalyst . He married a psychiatric
nurse and had three daughters, of
which I am the oldest. As I grew,
I became an atheist just like my
father and married another one,
a freshman at Princeton who did
not believe in God or anything-yet
he earned his Ph.D. in philosophy
so as a professor he could get paid
for arguing about religion and still
get six months’ paid vacation a
year. When I revived, I had tubes
all over me. Dad was sitting next
to my bed humming French songs,
and had been for weeks, which is
a monumental feat considering that
he is almost tone deaf. I hummed
back. He shot up about three feet
in the air, landed flat on top of
me, gave a war whoop, and hugged
me and cried. You have to remember
he is a dignified psychoanalyst
going on sixty, trained never to
blink an eye-so much for promising
him I wouldn’t tell.
I am psychic,
whether I believe it or not. I’m
a stay-at-home mother. I don’t have
dynamic thoughts about the world
of business or politics. Yet I feel
an internal pressure, A NEED TO
MOVE, to find a direction to be
of more service. I’m still adjusting
to the earthplane. It’s been twenty
years and my experience is clearer
to me than yesterday. Change that
"twenty" to (almost) thirty, and
that's what happened. There are
a few changes I'd make ... by the
time I went into the coma I was
put on Dilantin, Phenobarbital,
Valium, Stelazine and Thorazine.
When I came out of the coma I was
on 100 milligrams of Haldol. That
stuff was the pits. And it was awful
then I've changed my direction from
palm reading for God to quilting