I am sharing my story for the first on Steemit. Here's why...

Background

Several seemingly unconnected coincidences have occurred in my life over the last several days. One of them was finding Steemit; and then finding and reading some incredibly honest posts sharing intimate secrets and stories from people's personal lives. I guess they have all helped me now to do the same.

I came across a posting from Neil Strauss earlier today ( @neilstrauss ). I thought:- "the Neil strauss, that "Game" master of seduction chap?" So, yeah, it's him. He has two posts and the second with the title "Hate Mail from Phil Collins" begins.... Have held on to a number of items like this for over a decade and never shared them. This seems to be the place. Now seems to be the time. I thought 'WOW.' I also read some deeply affecting 'Secret Writer' posts on @stellabelle 's page.

I thought, if they can do it, so can I.

What Happened

At age 14, I had a Game Changing life altering experience that has profoundly affected my thinking and life ever since, and that I cannot easily explain away by rationale, logic, or scientific means. I can expostulate on the capacity of the human mind, especially one with a young fertile imagination, to create fantastic landscapes to retreat to in order to reassure and comfort oneself when faced with moments of extreme and life-threatening discomfort.

The thing is, my experience wasn't really like that...

Don't try this at home

The year was 1980. I had just turned 14. I was fit and healthy. On the Friday evening through to 9a.m. on Saturday morning we had a "Stay Awake" event in my school to raise money for charity. I had never done anything like this before and I remember it was a great and magical experience. We rented out movies, and being testosterone driven young teenage boys we snuck off to a lecture room and played Bo Derek's "10", Ridley Scott's "Alien" and I think Dudley Moore in "Arthur." A few of us were a little more adventurous. We sneaked out to an "adult" disco in town, I had alcohol, I remember dancing, sweating, walking back to the school soaking with perspiration, cold, a little drunk. It was still early Spring in Ireland.

At 9a.m. we bid our adieus to each other, usual see you on Monday stuff, very tired, and I am sure most of my classmates headed home to bed. I, on the other hand, as a member of our town's swimming club, headed off to a Swimming Gala where I competed in backstroke. The gala finished about midday.

I remember a break for lunch. Then I was off to a local Forest Park some 10 miles from my hometown where there was an Orienteering event, which mostly consisted of me running thought the forest wildly yelling and screaming like a madman with some other friends. I was young, healthy, and very fit. The idea that I could be overdoing things never once entered my mind. There was so much to experience in life and so little time! The forest was wet, it was drizzling rain most of that day, the kind that gets through your jacket and clothes and soaks you to the skin. We were tumbling and falling over and pushing each other in the wet grass, puddles, streams, and bushes. I recall saying to a close friend as we boarded the bus back to my hometown how tired I was and wouldn't it be great if we could figure a way to take Monday off school.

Panic Stations

My dad yelled for me to get up for school on Monday morning as per usual. I tried. I really tried. Nothing. I literally couldn't move my body at all from the neck down. I felt pain everywhere. I could feel myself panicking. I tried again. Nothing. I thought, "It's ok David. You are still asleep and having a nightmare. That's what this is." (I used to, and still do, get very lucid dreams. Not all are pleasant.) My dad yelled again that we were going to be late if I didn't get up right now. Nothing. Not a muscle would obey my command. I broke. Panic washed over me. I remember crying and sobbing trying to call my Dad, but only a whisper came out.

Eventually he came charging into my room ready to give me what for; but I could see from his face that something about what he saw looking back at him couldn't be right at all. I have no idea what color I must have been. I recall him asking what was wrong. I recall him trying to help me to the bathroom. I recall throwing up. I recall a doctor, then an ambulance siren, then nothing... blackness.

Hospital

I awoke to starched sheets and plumped pillows, beeping monitors, a curtain drawn completely around my bed. I drifted in and out of consciousness. There was a small gap between the edge of the curtain and the wall at my head. I could see an old man sitting slouched forward in a chair beside the bed next to mine. I couldn't see his face. I tried to speak but nothing came out. He appeared to be snoozing anyhow. I awoke to shouting and crying. Someone was screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!" Turned out the old man in the chair wasn't snoozing after all. Three more men died that week in my ward. It was segregated at that time, men only. I still couldn't move. Most of my companions couldn't either. One chap could though. He was very nice, smiling, reassuring, telling me I was going to be ok. He lent me a picture book with lots of photos about travelling to exotic places I had never heard of around the world. This was long before the days of 'Lonely Planet' and the internet. A few days later, when I tried to return the book, he was gone too.

But I am jumping the gun to after what happened. Those first 48 hours I knew instinctively that healthwise, I must be in real trouble.... Awake, asleep, visits, doctors, slipping in and out of consciousness, nurses tapping me, gently shaking me, repeatedly calling my name, asking me if I could hear them, telling me to try and stay awake. I couldn't keep any fluids down. They couldn't stabilise my temperature. Ice baths, literally, ice packs all over me. I couldn't feel them. I thought this was very funny for some reason, and was silently chuckling to myself as I started to drift off to sleep again.

Where am I?

I woke to the sound of very pleasant and soothing music. I opened my eyes. They must have transferred me to another ward. I seemed to be the only one there. I was still in bed, but it felt a lot more comfortable now and I was feeling a lot better, in fact I was feeling great! No more pain, completely gone. There was a very very bright blueish tinged light, I couldn't see the source, it seemed to be everywhere, but at the same time it was soft and didn't seem to be hurting my eyes. I wasn't squinting anyways. There were no sheets over me any more. They must have stabilized my temperature! Great! I'm on the mend!

I could see figures nearby, moving around the edge of the bed, but with the light I couldn't really make them out clearly. Not wearing the nurses uniforms from the previous ward. I tried to get their attention by turning my head. They seemed to notice I was awake. A voice by my ear. Female? Very soothing. I felt like whoever else was in this room with me right now were like my best friends ever. I felt happy. Loved. There was nothing to worry about.

A disembodied voice whispering in my ear. Familiar. I know it from somewhere, sometime. You are going to be ok David. We needed to change your treatment. You will be here with us for a little while. Don't worry. Reassuring... Music, light, music, light, music and gentle pulsing light.... The sound of soft laughter....

Playing. Running. Laughter. Others...New friends... A field, a meadow, flowers, long grass. A park?, trees, gentle breeze. Summer, warmth, soft glowing light. I am well, I am upright, no longer in hospital. I have never felt better. No sense of time. How did I get here? That familiar voice... female?... You are well again David. You should think about going back now....( I don't want to leave... I want to stay here... with you...) It is your choice. You don't have to go, but your family will miss you if you don't go back... They are sad without you. Don't worry. You will be coming back again...

I am shown myself ? in a hospital bed, an overhead view. Looking down I can see my family around this bed. Heads bowed. It looks very sad. I feel sorry for them. How can it be me in the bed if I am here? I want to shout that everything is ok, that there is nothing to worry about. I am told this is not allowed...Either I go back or stay... I hesitate, for how long I don't know, there is no sense of time.. I really do not want to leave this place.... there is no sense of being pressured and I am not rushed to give an answer... eventually I say...( If you think it best, ok then.)...Speed....Light.... (By the way, my memory of all of this was no actual speech.. all communication was thought based/telepathy)

Home? again

I open my eyes. I am back in my former hospital ward. They must have transferred me again. There is someone, a male, at the foot of my bed dressed all in black. His head is bowed and he appears to be mumbling something to himself. He appears to have laid stuff out on the top of my bed. Some sort of paraphenalia. The cheek of him! I decide to get his attention. I give a cough. "hello"... He looks up visibly startled. Aha! He's a priest. He jumps up, nearly trips over himself and runs off to get a doctor or nurse. Everyone comes running. They all look happy to see me. Comments like "So you decided to return to the land of the living then!" "Good to see you back". Relieved faces. Smiles.

I ask for the kind nurse who treated me with the nice light and could they please put the music back on. They think I am delirious. I am insistent. I want to thank her. They ask what she looks like. I can only describe her voice.
Where is the park and meadow? Can I go there again? .... You have been through a lot I am told. We thought we had lost you a few times. You had double pneumonia. Your temperature was off the charts. You should never smoke or take on heavy manual jobs for the rest of your life. You will have a weak chest. Your recovery will be slow. You will need to take things easy for a while. Plenty of rest.

I never did return to competitive swimming. There were no more orienteering weekends or stay awakes. I was weak for a long time. I never found out who the kind nurse was. I only ever shared with one other person, my closest friend, what happened.

Aftermath

Time passed. The memory of being healed by a combination of sound/music and light never left me. In fact, over the intervening years, if anything it has intensified and more details from my NDE have clarified in my mind. Whilst memories of "real" events in my life have faded, this "dream" memory has become stronger, more real of an experience than anything in the physical world. I am now 50. MOre than 34 years have elapsed, and I have a sense that whatever I am meant to be doing, I need to be doing it.

I studied music. I now have a Masters Degree. In my late 30's I came across Raymond Moody's Life after Life. I cried when I read it. In my 40's I started seeing articles about Cymatics and the future possibilities of Musical Therapy; healing illnesses as serious as cancer through specific sound vibrations and wave frequencies.

Disclaimer: The images in this article do no justice whatsoever to the actual experience I had. I have included them just to break up the text.

There follows a few examples from current research and events that might help any skeptics to consider that what I experienced was perhaps a little more than the delirious ramblings and dream of a near-death teenager's mind:
I would ask that if anyone reading this has ever had a similar experience if they would be so good as to comment below. Or else, if you prefer to contact me privately, you can reach me at: dacoma@gmail.com
Likewise, if anyone has knowledge of current research as shown in the links, please get in touch or comment below. Thank you for reading this far