Have you had a dream experience of such import you wish you could share it with everyone – specifically of a visitation by a departed family member or friend in a dream, which lifted the burden of grief for you, because of what they said or did in the dream? Or a visitation of an otherworldly nature, maybe an angelic one, you could't logically explain ?
Or most importantly, have you had, or know someone who has had, a Near Death Experience -- an NDE? If so, this page is available to you to share any of these experiences. And it goes without saying, stories of miracles are highly welcome. I'll share one of these, that I heard firsthand from a woman who was instantly healed of final stage cancer, at an Easter sunrise service.
Please just email -- or mail if you prefer -- what you would like to see here, at the addresses provided on the author Contact page.
Please keep the length reasonable (I realize some stories may be so compelling that this may not be possible). But I need to reserve the right to edit for length where I feel it’s required. I’ll return the edited submissions to contributors, for their permission to post as revised.
We all have stories to tell, and it was at the telling of a visitor’s dream to this site, which featured contact from her departed father, that inspired this page’s creation -- which I feel is better than a blog. Her dream is posted second below.
I look forward to seeing your stories, and will begin the page with one of my own experiences, a dream I had a month after my mother’s passing at age 98, which lifted the weight of sadness from me and it has never returned.
AN END TO GRIEF
"In my dream on Thanksgiving morning of 2016, I was driving a British Mini-Cooper inside a series of connected warehouses, which had simple but elegant wooden beams and tall, wide-plank walls. My elderly father was in the seat beside me, who was confined to a wheelchair in the last years of his life.
We traveled through the warehouses until we came to a stop before two tall oak doors. As if anticipated, I got out of the car, pulled the wheelchair from its trunk, and got my Dad into the chair to wheel him toward the doors.
As we neared the doors they opened without assistance, and two men who knew my Dad came forward and one said, “Ed, you have to come downstairs, and see our new workspace”, and they pointed to stairs leading to a large room whose function I couldn’t discern from where I was.
At this invitation my Dad, for the first time in many months, got up without assistance and began going down the stairs, which had elegant handrails I couldn’t imagine belonged to any “workspace”. I immediately rushed up behind him to offer any support he might need.
But as he descended each step, he became younger and younger until, his posture continuously straightening, and reaching the landing several steps from the floor, he was now in his early thirties, sporting the handsome appearance I had known for so many years, his dark hair restored. From there, we looked out over the scene: of a magnificent ballroom, with an extensive buffet at one end and an elegant bar at the other, with people chatting at tables filling the room.
To the right of this landing was a table with friends of my Dad, who had predeceased him, all of them known to me and all now returned to their more youthful, thirtyish, years of age. Then, comically, instead of taking the last few steps to the floor my Dad leaped over the handrail and landed in a chair at their table.
And it was then, still smiling, I looked out and saw my mother, now in her early thirties again, with her long hair pulled up as I’d often seen it as a child, wearing a white gown and going from table to table, giggling – inquiring what people were eating, and were they having a good time – and it was then I awoke.
It was then the burden of her passing lifted for me instantaneously, and it has never returned, because I knew with certainly that my parents are in a better place now where old age, illnesses and infirmities, do not exist for anyone, for any of those we love.
It’s something I know with every particle of my Faith, every essence of my being."
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IN SCHOOL AGAIN
"I just read some of the elements on your site and want to read more. What you say is what my Dad said when he came to me in a dream after his death. He said he was back in school again, and that there was so much to learn."
CW, Lewiston, ME
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A SPECIAL RING RETURNED
During her final year, my mother and I were reading aloud from an 'Angels on Earth' digest. It's a monthly whose stories are all personal re-tellings of believed visitations by heavenly messengers – men and women who appear in the stories, often mysteriously to remedy or save a situation, then just as unexplainably leave. After reading one of the re-countings about one heavenly visitor, I was reminded of the experience Mom herself had about 8 years ago.
Mom was living in her apartment at the time, at a large residence for the elderly, where I often joined her in its first-floor restaurant during my lunch break from work. One noontime when I approached the table she was waiting at I could see she was teary-eyed. When I asked her what was wrong she held up her left hand and said she'd lost her diamond ring, the beautiful one my Dad had given her on their 25th Anniversary.
My father owned a jewelry store for over three decades, and it was a very nice ring.
I asked her if she'd told the people in administration and she said she had, and they had put up a notice on the building's bulletin board. And, she said, I'm going to “pray to St. Anthony” (who is known as the Patron Saint of lost objects in the Catholic Faith).
Days and then weeks went by and there was no return of the ring, and I was sure it was gone forever.
Visiting for lunch again after a month had passed I approached Mom where she waited at her table and I saw she was beaming, and I asked her why the broad smile. She held up her hand and showed me the ring.
When I asked her what happened she said the evening before, when she had returned from an afternoon with her friends and was standing in the lobby of her building, trying to decide whether she wanted to eat at the restaurant, or go up to her apartment to have something there -- she felt a tap on her shoulder.
When she turned around a tall, well-dressed man in a full-length wool coat stood there, the type of coat one rarely sees these days she said. He was attractive, had a mustache, and he simply said:
“Is your name Anita?"
“Yes,” she said, surprised.
“And you've lost your ring?”
“Yes,” she said.
Without saying anything more the man removed the ring from his pocket, took her hand and placed it on the correct finger, and left before she could thank or say anything to him.
She said she had never seen him before, nor had anyone else, and she never saw him again.
A GLIMPSE INTO ENLIGHTENMENT
“This experience of many years ago doesn’t fall inside the three parameters set for this page, but it does relate to one of the main themes put forth in Our Brilliant Eternity from its outset.
I won’t go into the details that led up to this experience here because that would test the length boundaries encouraged, suffice it to say this experience stemmed from a moment I might characterize as a gesture of conditionless giving.
The setting was a beach in California.
Following the referenced gesture, I went for a walk alone along the shore where I’d been interacting with a male and female friend, when suddenly I was overwhelmed with a peace and a sense of love beyond anything I had ever felt before.
And it was very clearly shown to me in that moment that the catalyst for this experience was the giving over of my greatest desire, for the love of a friend. I gave up my attachment and desire for her, for the joys of another. The reward was a bigger love than I could comprehend.
My sense of freedom exploded into uncontrollable joy, which kept growing intensely. Something got triggered inside which I could not understand, but it just kept expanding into the biggest love I could fathom. It was so powerful that I had to stop and sit and reflect to get some perspective. I asked internally for understanding as the energy was getting to be more than I thought I could handle.
This energy was relentless in its expansion. No question could exist in my consciousness that did not have an accompanying answer. I would grab handfuls of sand and squeeze it out through the cracks between my fingers in an effort to deal with the overload of energy.
This consciousness is beyond anything I ever imagined could exist. The love seemed to be saturating all the space around me and I couldn’t distinguish a source. It was like the essence of everything.
Every morning for weeks on end I would awaken to the same elevated, unconditionally loving space which eventually made me think that it would be forever that way.
After a couple months the intensity of this experience did diminish, but the accumulative effect was that I lived in a new reality, redefining love and the kind of consciousness that I wanted to live in. This experience was so profound that I did not speak of it for over a decade.”
SB, Mt. Shasta, CA
Note: This friend’s experience of a glimpse into Enlightenment mirrors one this author describes, using identical terms, in several chapters of Our Brilliant Eternity and in the book’s introduction, And Also Heaven. Though its context was different – the sweet condition of Being and consciousness described above was the same, lasting for weeks.
In both instances, the assertion of 'heaven being within, and all around us', was exquisitely and overwhelmingly
confirmed – as well the claim made by quantum physics that parallel dimensions exist, one being
this: of the other-worldly reality of God’s loving energy occupying our physical space.
* * *
A MOUNTAIN MIRACLE
I knew a woman years ago, Barbara was her name.
“Do you know my story?” she asked as we sat in a coffee shop across the street from where our vehicles were being repaired, in the mid 1980s, in Redding, California.
“I heard you had been through chemotherapy a few years back, and had come through it okay,” I said.
Barbara was not then a close friend, but someone I had met over the years at gatherings in the mountain town where we lived, forty miles north of the city we now were in.
“Twice,” she replied, “and during the second stretch of therapy, when I became sicker than the first time, which had been awful, I decided it was better to just pass on, and I stopped trying to get well, I gave up on living and ended the chemo.”
One Easter Morning
“But friends who didn’t want to see me leave or suffer anymore invited me to an Easter sunrise service that spring, at the cabin on the mountain where therapy and massage work are done. You know the one?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And so even though I’d given up, I finally said, ‘yes,’ to their invitation.”
“And you went that Sunday.”
“Before dawn,” she said. “We all met at the cabin, and after they helped me onto one of the massage tables there, they held hands around me and started singing hymns as the sun came up. And as I laid there with my eyes closed listening to their singing, suddenly I saw a golden hand appear, full of light, and it passed slowly from the top of my head down through my body and out the bottoms of my feet. And I knew that in that instant I was healed, that I was feeling no more pain or discomfort, that my cancer was gone. And when I went to see my doctor that week, he confirmed the tumor had disappeared, that he didn’t know why, but it was gone, when he had given me only a few more months to live.”
“After I told him what had happened, he just shook his head and said it was a mystery to him, but that spontaneous healings like this were known to occur.”
“And I wasn’t even a Christian,” she said, “I considered myself a Buddhist and told people that even though I was a follower of Buddha, that Jesus had healed me from the cancer.”
From Chapter 2 of 'Our Brilliant Eternity'
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WRITTEN IN A DREAM
"As a writer I keep a notebook by my bed, in case inspiration for something should present itself while sleeping.
During a night of interrupted sleep years ago, this poem came to me, one line at a time, how many minutes apart during the night I don’t know, and they were not in this order – until I found what follows in my notebook on awakening.
I looked at the lines, which had no logical sequence, until I saw their potential rhyme scheme, which just needed reordering, and this is what I found:
And we, one day, shall be as these
Who move without a movement’s sound,
Whose gentle sight but beauty sees,
And touch a Golden Peace surrounds.
And Love’s expectant joy beholds,
In them the coming of the King –
Whose sovereignness but Freedom holds
And rule a lasting treasure brings.
And we, one day, shall be as these
Whose seamless robes of Light are spun,
Upon whose brows a jewel reveals
Our Sonship with the King’s begun.
And we, as these, one day will be – "
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THROUGH MY MOTHER'S CHIMES
"Four months after my mother died, on a warm July evening, I was having a particularly difficult night and missing her – an ache I felt deep in my bones. I always keep my sliding glass doors open with the screen door closed. Two weeks prior, I hung a small set of chimes above the sliding glass doors. My mother adored chimes and had several hanging inside and outside of her home.
My Golden Retriever always sleeps on the floor on my husband’s side of the bed. On a Friday night, my husband was away. Indy and I went to bed. Two hours later, I awakened for no particular reason. I heard in my head, “Check on Indy.” It was very strange, but I walked around the bed and Indy was not lying on his dog bed. “He must be in my office,” I thought. but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
I called to him and clapped my hands. Nothing. My heartbeat quickened because I have a small place and couldn’t imagine where he could be. It’s important to note, I live in a condo, so Indy never goes outside without me, and always on a lead. Again, I heard, “Open the front door.” When I opened the door, Indy was strolling up the walkway.
To say I was astounded, dumbfounded, etc. would be an understatement. I was frightened and confused. How did Indy get out? I knew I didn’t let him out, because again, he’s always on a lead. I went to back to bed and Indy went to lie on his dog bed. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the windchimes, except it was a calm July evening. There was no wind. “Mom” I thought. Indy was walking toward the sliding glass doors. I saw the windchimes moving. I walked over, moved the curtain, and realized that I had left the slider open but never shut the screen door, which is how Indy got out.
I have no doubt that Mom awakened me that night. She’s the one who told me to open the front door. She’s the one who rung the chimes to alert me the screen door was open."
SC, Portland, ME
* * *
“Earth life is just a parenthetical… to real life… the life of the Spirit.”
From ‘God Calling’ in OBE
Author’s Note: Because there is so much potential for confusion and distraction in the world of spirit communication (thus the Scriptural caution to “Test the spirits, to determine if they are from God…”), the parameters for this section were set to people’s private experiences – whether these were a grief-eliminating dream, a believed angelic visitation, or NDEs.
Yet on seeing this invitation page, a dear friend shared that she and her sister had received personal and uplifting messages from their deceased father and brother, in a session with a well-known medium, and inquired if she might share them here.
I thought for just a moment and said, Yes. Because I had met her father a number of times, and found him to be a really genial man, a deeply-talented artist, who had professed atheism during his lifetime. This was enough for me to want to hear presumed communications with his believing daughter, after he made his transition.
This is my friend’s experience, in her words:
' AN ISLAND OF PUPPIES '
“My sister and I had a fantastic experience talking with a well-regarded West Coast medium. We talked to him on FaceTime and I was glad we were together so we were sure of what we were hearing. We both took notes.
We were hoping to communicate with our father and our brother and we were amazed and overjoyed at the detailed messages we received, including things that only family members could have known.
Our brother said that Papa, our dad, was there to meet him when he passed on and that Papa‘s mind is normal again, (no more Alzheimer’s). He said they joke around and climb mountains together. He said he has built a beautiful home on a shore and he can’t wait to show it to us. He said, ‘It’s so amazing here! Claudia could have an island of puppies!’
He said to tell his wife that he treasures the memories of their time together and is very proud of how their children have turned out. He is glad they continue to love hiking and skiing and spending time in nature. He said he’s glad his son is planning to marry and that the woman he’s marrying is very good for him. He said he worries about his daughter putting too much pressure on herself.
Then it was our father’s turn. He told David that he was very proud of all his children and grandchildren and enjoys watching over us. He said that he is happy that our mother has found love again and that she is traveling and enjoying life.
In our second session my dad showed David the places he likes to spend time now, which is a Joshua-tree like desert, and the Mediterranean landscape, especially Greece. Those both sounded right to me. My dad loved Greek and Roman art and history, and knew so much about it.
Another wonderful part was when I asked my brother if he might come back in the future. Without my telling him so, the medium said, 'You have 4 children, your sister and brother each have two, and your brother says, ‘Of course I can come back, and cause trouble for you guys. I have so many options.' (He was never any trouble, except by falling prey to depression, but it sounded like the way he would joke.) I never expected to have so much evidence from the other side. I hope to continue learning more!”
CM, San Francisco, CA
* * *
WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER
"That we are all in this together, whatever the inclinations of our faiths, was brought home to me in another experience I also had during those years in California. At the invitation of a Jewish friend to meet his visiting Buddhist instructor, I said yes to joining them at a local restaurant for dinner.
When this elderly teacher, a very gracious woman who was nearly blind, learned that I was a Christian, she said that there was a book I must read, a classic in Christian mystic literature, titled The Way of the Pilgrim. It was a book about the importance of practicing the discipline of ceaseless interior prayer. (Here was a Buddhist teacher, whose faith is steeped in meditation, strongly encouraging me to read a classic in Christian literature which had the same focus.)
Days after this encounter and without the time to secure the book, I traveled to visit my lovely sister, in Hawaii, whom I’d not seen in several years. As I walked into the living room of her home I saw a paperback on her table still on the bag it was pulled from, its receipt on top.
It was: 'The Way of the Pilgrim'.
“When did you get this book?” I asked.
“Yesterday,” Suzanne said. “I was in a bookstore and it looked interesting so I bought it. I haven’t started it yet.”
Astounded, I said, “Mind if I read it?” “No,” she said, “be my guest.”
Recapping the personal experience shared above: A Jewish adherent to Buddhism, and one of my dearest brothers, introduced me to his elderly Zen instructor. She recommended a Christian prayer manual to me.
A week later and without knowledge of this encounter my sister bought that book the day before I arrived at her home in Hawaii – and its reading led to one of the three most profound spiritual experiences I have had in this life.
Tell me we are not all connected in a marvelous way, in a remarkable play, and that we are not all God's children."
From Chapter 2 of 'Our Brilliant Eternity'
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