Pre death experiences testimonials
Pre death experiences testimonials the meeting with the Light
Pre death experiences testimonials : pre-death experiences are precious testimonials told to us by those who, after having experimented a departure from their body due to a grave event, they later regaine contact with their physical body; pre-death testimonials enrich us with knowledge and hope; Silvia tells us her experience, beginning exactly from the moments that marked her exit from her own body.
Let’s listen to her:
The grey cotton that filled my head was gradually thinning out, as I was slowly regaining consciousness of my body. Cold bluish lights, like incandescent pin pricks, penetrating through the bandages that covered my eyelids, were causing an unbearable pain in my eyes. Unpleasant and strange smells overwhelmed my sense of smell, which had not completely reawakened yet, while muffled and foreign noises could be heard by my poor ear drums.
With increasing curiosity I was asking myself what was happening, and what horrible nightmare I must have been going through. The piercing pain that I could feel all over my body, however, soon gave me the certainty that what I was living was reality: but which? For I am not sure how long, I tried to make sense of my ideas and find the correct answer that could explain where I was, what was happening to me, and above all who where all those people all around me.
Me? Was I really that aching and dishevelled bundle of pain, stretched on that narrow and cold bed? Tapping into the few resources that were left to me, calling upon energy that I did not even know I had left, I finally managed to grasp on to some morsels of conversation.
More blood, quickly … check blood pressure, hurry up … stitches! .... impaired breathing …. Decreasing blood pressure …. very weak pulse …. cardiac arrest! ....
I could not listen to the remainder of it, because, suddenly, I heard one single very loud and piercing noise, very similar to that of an approaching train, and I found myself surrounded by absolute darkness.
I felt I was being sucked into a vortex of warm air: I was not feeling afraid, on the contrary, I felt an exciting sensation, very similar to what I experienced when I was eight years old, when for the first time my brother accompanied me to visit the “haunted castle” at the fair. Gradually the darkness gave way to a golden and soft light, which surrounded me, making me feel secure and protected like in my mother’s womb.
No more pains, no more confusion and curiosity; just a great sense of peace and love: the most intimate part of me had left, unable to cope with the anguish of my wounded body. I let myself drift into a new, wonderfully pleasant sensation, I was floating in the emptiness of light, observing from up above in what was, I later found out, my ICU room.
I could see machinery and tubes everywhere, many red blue and green lights, carts with medicines and disinfectant, I was particularly taken aback by the great white clock hanging on the wall in front of me: the shorter hand was displaying it was three o clock and the longer one was showing the number four. Around me I could make out doctors and nurses looking serious and worried, with competence they were using the strangest equipment to keep alive a body that, by then, did not even seem to be alive anymore.
I was observing them applying, with remarkable skill, strange metal discs on my chest, inside which, my heart had stopped beating. In that moment I felt completely disoriented, I could see my body jolt grotesquely each time those strange discs emanated electrical charges. Other doctors were busy around my poor head, trying to stitch it up and pat dry the numerous injuries that disfigured what was once my face.
Saying this today, it seems a paradox to admit that I was actually enjoying the act of watching how much care they were giving me during that surgery; without, however, having been able to identify the true source of the internal bleeding that was killing me. I wanted to help them, and give them advice on cutting open the clothes I was still wearing, and notice that they were hiding a deep laceration of the artery by the humerous.
I tried with all my strength to give them a nudge, to enter in every possible way into communication with them, I tried to extend my hand to touch their hair, but every attempt was in vain: they could neither see me, nor hear me. However, I must admit that I quickly gave up every attempt: I felt so good, that I did not really have any desire to go back into that strange and by now unfamiliar shell.
It is not possible for me to quantify exactly how much time I spent floating in that room. At some point, I saw myself stepping off the bed, walking on the candid linoleum, opening the glass door and going to the long corridor, illuminated by an anonymous neon light. There were two panels of cold metal leaning against the wall, and a desk behind which sat a grey haired nun. Once I reached the hospital exit, I felt pushed by an unknown power, far, far away: and this marked the start of what ended up being for me an extraordinary and incredible journey.
In the beginning, I met a multitude of unknown smiling people. Their faces were soft with serenity, and, holding each other by the hand, they were walking on a pretty flower meadow. I would have liked to stop and talk to them, but it was not permitted for me to stop the journey. Then, unexpectedly, through a light of a more intense cloud, I saw the sweet and much loved face of my grandmother.
At that point, recognizing my complete freedom, I happily ran towards her, just like I used to do when I was little, every time she would come to visit. Even if she had passed away 10 years prior, I found in her the same resemblance and the same love from back when she was alive. I embraced her and asked her to keep me with her, forever: I felt at peace there, like I had never felt before, and I had no intention to go back to suffering.
My grandmother smiled, but, with affectionate firmness, pushed me back, telling me that I could not stay with her. My journey had not reached its end yet: specific duties were awaiting me, and I had new tasks to perform. I was then sent right back, and the warm vortex sent me back to my starting point.
I was once again suspended, hovering at about thirty centimetres above my extended body, and I could feel the commotion that was happening around my bed. Doctors and nurses exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads in resignation. One of them, in particular, caught my attention: he was the youngest one, and with his exceptional physique he was towering over the others. Moreover, he was wearing a horrible tie with yellow flowers. In that moment I understood, unequivocally, the following words: “… it’s no use continuing to try, the patient is dead; disconnect the breathing equipment! ...”
An infinite desperation and furious anger overwhelmed me: I was still there, I wanted to continue being! That shattered and aching body was no longer alien to me: it was me! I knew I was not dead, my grandmother had told me so: now I no longer felt the desire to die; on the contrary, I was prepared to cope with everything: but what could I do? By now they were all leaving.
Only “my doctor” was lingering near me. I don’t know how, but I found the strength to slowly move the little finger of my right hand, and then I precipitated into absolute emptiness. As my father subsequently told me, the morning of the same day I was transferred to a hospital in Milan, which was better equipped for the necessary treatment needed due to the gravity of my condition. Over there, I underwent numerous and extremely delicate surgeries to repair the devastating damage to my face, as well as my arm.
I remained in a coma for a month, and when I came out of it, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, checking me out, with anxiety and fear written all over them. Sadly, the serious cranial trauma had caused a total amnesia: I no longer remembered who I was, nor could I recognize my loved ones. Two long weeks of nothingness went by before I could understand that I had been involved in a very serious car accident, which had nearly cost me my life. From the police report I found out that it happened at 23:46 of the 16th of August, my car was hit by a semi and it lost control.
With difficulty I was able to remember how the acts unfolded, but every effort caused terrible migraines, which forbade me from continuing; however, I wanted to know, deep into my shocked mind I had the sensation that I had gone through something very important, but what was it? Little by little, thanks to the appropriate treatments, little shreds of what had happened started to appear in my mind. I saw the long and monotonous grey road, the ferocious storm, and I started hearing again the horrible noise of metals clashing, so violent and present that I could even taste it in the back of my throat. However, my memories did not stop there. My rehabilitation was long and very painful; but, what disrupted my sleep was not the fear of medication, rather it was the faceless nightmare I faced every night, every night at exactly the same time: 3:20 am.
No matter how many sleeping pills and tranquillizers I ingested, at that precise time I would wake up drenched in sweat, with the clear sensation of being buried alive. I tried to talk about it with the doctors, with my parents, I asked for advice from my friends, but everyone answered in the same way … it’s only the consequence of the shock you went through. Don’t think about it and eventually it will all disappear. Have patience and forget ….
I followed their advice, I stopped talking about it and tried to put it behind me. Strangely, I felt particularly accepting and compliant, which is a huge departure from how I used to be before the accident! Until then I had lived with the belief that I just needed to have a good figure, a pretty face and a good education to seize the world in my hand. I never had to work very hard to satisfy all my whims; my parents loved me very much, and spoiled me just as much, trying to remove any obstacles and dangers from my path: luck took care of the rest.
In a moment, my life presented me with a day of reckoning, and it was particularly hard. It was hard to accept the face that the mirror was reflecting. I had changed considerably, not only physically: the expression of my eyes was the most disorienting. In them, as well as the signs of suffering, I started reading a serenity and a determination that I had never seen before. I felt disoriented and insecure, because my physical condition imposed a different way of living; however, at the same time, inside me was coming to life a willpower that was stronger and more mature. Life’s events began to take on a different aspect, and I discovered truer and more concrete values, slowly, deep and radical changes within me started marking my personality. The time came to end my aimless life, in which I made sure I avoided all responsibilities.
I decided to complete my studies I had given up for no reason, and started to toy with the idea of getting married and have a family of my own. My new way of life left my old friends rather confused. I ended my relationship with the sophisticated friendships of the past, and started to spend time with people who knew how to laugh, cry, and live without the need for superficial appearances.
My parents watched me with some suspicion and, while they appreciated me and cared for me, they really struggled to adapt to my new way of thinking and acting. I was different, happier, freer. And yet I continued to not feel completely calm: deep down within me, I could sense an uncertainty I could not name, something that kept on feeling amiss, a note out of tune that spoiled the harmony of my new image, something hidden that I finally had to find again. My nightmares needed an explanation, my strange sensations needed to have a meaning, and so I decided to get to the bottom of the issue, despite what everyone said, which was, for my own good, to stop tormenting myself.
A year and a half later I finally put the pieces of the “jigsaw” back together . In June 1977 I was invited by some friends on a holiday in their farm on the hills of Fidenza. One evening, we went dancing in an elegant venue not far from there. I felt particularly well, and I had every intention to have a good time that night, despite the permanent sensation of not being complete, which kept tormenting me. At one point I was introduced to a “guy” who was decidedly big and tall, who looked vaguely familiar.
I was overwhelmed by countless strange sensations: my heartbeat accelerated to the max, in my head I felt an annoying buzz all the time, similar to a crazy swarm of bees flying around. Abandoning every form of good manners and education, I monopolized the mans’ attention, and I started to question him intensely. He told me he was an orthopedic doctor, and he worked in the hospital in Parma. To appease my growing interest in asking him questions, he told me a few painful episodes which he had to witness, especially during his internship period at the Emergency Room. I was drinking up all of his words, and yet I could still not explain to my self the real reason for my curiosity.
I felt as if I had a split personality: part of me was thirsty for those stories, which were not amusing, while another part of me was seeking in vain to stop that fire of questions, so indiscreet, given the place and the time we were all in. At some point I asked him to take me for a drive. I will never be able to describe his shocked expression when he heard my request, which by the way sounded more like and command … “Do you mind accompanying me to the hospital in Parma? I want to go there …”
It was two thirty in the morning, my state of health was perfect, but I was able to easily convince him to go along with it. “.. Only because you had such an agitated expression on your face … you did not even seem the same person! ...” he confessed to me later on. And in fact I was different: I felt invaded by an unstoppable restlessness, and the clear sensation that finally I was going to find the missing piece of my memories, the missing part of myself, the cause of my nightmares.
When I got off the car, I walked purposefully into the hospital, which I did not know and I could have never seen before. Without hesitation, I walked down the corridor that lead to the ICU room, and suddenly all of my memories from that night of 16th August 1975 came rushing back. In front of that glass door I turned around, facing my doctor, and I told him: “that August night, you were close to me, I remember it very well! It was three twenty in the morning, you had just declared me dead, but in reality I was just taking a wonderful trip into the light, from which, as you can see, I returned. Physically you have not changed much, but I notice with pleasure that you have improved your fashion sense! The tie you had on that night was truly ugly! ....”
We sat down on a bench, and I told him everything I saw, heard, and lived during my experience. He completely bombarded me with questions, and he made me repeat a thousand times all of the single details. I easily understood his suspicion he may be dealing with a delusional individual , but, as I kept on providing more and more accurate details of it, especially when I described the layout of the ICU room furniture, the color of the floor, and the name of some of the medication they had administered to me, he started to look at me through a different set of eyes.
He had read many American medical publications on experiences similar to mine, but witnessing one for himself was without doubt more compelling. Now he was the one who was listening to each word I was saying, and, feeling ever more curious, he wanted me to describe my sensations to him …
“But how could you have seen and heard all that, right while we were trying to restart your heart?..”
I explained to him that my visions were not those in the normal meaning of the word, but rather they were clear perceptions of the worry that the doctors around me were feeling. Without using the five senses, I could pick up their thoughts, hear their words, see their gestures. In the state I was in, there was no concept of real time, but rather everything happened simultaneously. It was like being in a theatre and watching a scene where the various parts of the script are acted out in various parts of the stage.
“Therefore, you were not feeling any pain, you felt no fear? ..” – he kept on asking me, with more fervour and curiosity.
Smiling, I assured him that I had felt I was swimming in the utmost serenity and peace. The only moment of true terror I felt was when, obliged to return into my own body, I had heard the doctors, who had tried to resuscitate me in vain, claim that there was no hope for me.
“… so, as you can see, I have to thank you. You were close to me just long enough to demonstrate to me that, after having departed from my body, I later regained possession of it … “.
In the end I asked him:
“Excuse me, but the nurse with the grey hair who was working that night, she was sitting at the desk to the side, does she still work in this hospital? I would like so much to be able to say hello to her …”.
While I was letting my memories roam free, I felt as if I was washed over by a newly-gained tranquillity. Now, I had all the answers. Finally I knew that the meeting with the Light, with those strange creatures full of love, was behind the radical change in the way I lived my life and the way I thought. I was aware that my return had been decided by the superior will, which had expressed itself through my grandmother. Ever since that day in June 1977, I have been able to sleep like a baby, with no more fear of being reawakened into that horrible nightmare.
Pre death experiences testimonials the meeting with the Light is shared by Silvia, from her website ampupage.it
Pre death experiences testimonials the meeting with the Light
Pre death experiences testimonials
www.leparoledegliangeli.com/en The words of the Angels