Prisoner NDE

My name is Philip and I am writing in reference to yours and Dr. Long’s interview on the Art Bell show last night concerning NDEs.

September 24, 1995 at approximately 0130 I was shot during a failed robbery by a county sheriff. The bullet shattered my knee and severed the artery in my lower leg. I was told that I "bled out" during surgery.

There were two distinct incidents that I recall. Both different. The first time, I found myself floating above an operating table. At the time I was very interested in what was going on and concerned at the commotion. A surgical light was in the way, so I "moved" down to peer over the back of a female doctor. I remember laughing; (she was too short and was standing on something to get to the table. I also saw a man leaning against a wall in surgical gear whom I recognized as an officer who had accompanied me in the ambulance and with whom I had developed a friendly rapport.) Both were confirmed after my recovery. Then the "bubble popped" (that’s not accurate, but it’s the best description) and all was black. It was like moving yet slowly going to sleep. I was standing barefoot in a beautiful mountain meadow, as a four-year-old. Holding my chubby little hand was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. A Greek God times a hundred! He had a glow that radiated love like the sun does light, and I knew I was safe with him. It was the most peaceful loving feeling I have ever known. We started walking along a path through the meadow, hand in hand. I knew that he was taking me somewhere specific, but that the walk was important, too. I was seeing such amazing things. Colors, shapes, smells, everything was so sharp and beautiful. It was like seeing for the first time. My guide enjoyed this walk as much as I did, pointing to new things and laughing at my enjoyment. The only sound he made was laughter, and it was as wonderful as everything else was. It was the rush of a mountain stream, a baby’s first cry. Tinkling chimes and thunder. I will never be able to describe the sound.

At the end of the path we came to a point overlooking a valley. The valley was covered by fog / clouds so that you not only could not see into it, but could not get an accurate feeling for the size of the valley. Out of the valley came these feelings / emotions that were so sad, I started to cry. The feelings were sorrow filled with longing. Much like wishing something hadn’t happened the way it did, knowing it was too late to change it, but wishing anyway. My guide was crying, too. A wasted life is too sad for words.

The glow around my guide faded as a brighter, bigger glow surrounded us, and I heard a voice inside my head. The voice said, "Philip, this is the end of the path that you now walk. Remember that I will always love you." The glow faded, my guide smiled and wiped my eyes, and the bubble "popped" again.

I woke up in the recovery room crying like a baby. A nurse was standing over me trying to calm me and telling me it was over, and I was going to be fine, and why was I crying. I told her I had a dream, a sad one. She laughed and told me that the anesthetics administered during surgery block the brain's ability to dream. Then she asked me what my dream was. I couldn’t tell her the whole story (I was fighting sleep), but enough got across. She told me that the doctors had "trouble" with me twice (I was under the knife for over six hours) and that I had "bled out." Then she told me she didn’t think it was a dream, and told me to go to sleep. I dreamed of a better life and future for myself and knew it was possible.

I’ve asked other doctors since if it’s possible to dream while under anesthetics. All said no. I still try to convince myself otherwise, well at least I did. Occasionally, just before I fall asleep, I see my guide standing by me. Personally, I believe that I’ve glimpsed both Heaven and Hell, that I’ve not only met my Guardian Angel, but held his hand, and heard the Voice of God.