Life After Life? An Out of Body, Mystical Experience?

September 15, 2020

Years ago, my job was stressful, my kids were young, and my husband not always pleasant. At that time, I started meditating. It helped with my stress management.

Meditation was always a struggle. Quiet your mind they say. My mind would not stay quiet. While my meditation sessions were lacking in quality, they were still doing some good. I kept at them for a while.

One Saturday morning, emerging slowly from a deep sleep, not fully awake yet, alone, I wondered where my husband was.

My husband was in the kitchen, right in front of me, pouring himself another cup of coffee. Right in front of me… and yet, my body was still in bed.

Husband, here. Where are the kids? Right there, in front of me, in the finished basement, watching something on TV, my son eating his cereals, my daughter on her laptop, both on the couch. And my body was still in bed.

Wait! What was happening. I was clearly still sleeping. I knew I was still sleeping. What was I doing snooping on my family like that? How was I snooping on my family like that?

I could see my people, hear them, look around me, go from my husband to my kids just by wishing it. I did not have to use the stairs. I did not have to go anywhere, and I was not going through walls. Husband? Here! Kids? Here! Just like that! So simple. How?

What was happening? It was so weird… and it was so much fun! Could they hear me? Could they see me? I could… could they?

It did not feel as if I had a physical body, and yet, I did. If I thought of me as a physical body, I could see one around me. But physical body aside, I did not feel any different.

I went to my husband, back in the kitchen, him still pouring his coffee. I went right to his ear. I could get as small as I wanted, floating next to him. And I tried, tried so hard talking to him: “hey, I am right here, can you hear me, hello!!!”. I tried screaming, closer and closer to the ear: “Hello! Good Morning to You!!! Please Hear Me! Can you?”

No reaction from my husband. None. I was right there, trying to communicate, trying to show him whatever was happening to me. Nothing!

And then, I heard a voice. Hearing is the wrong term. That voice was in my brain, clear, without distortions, bypassing ears. The voice said: “He could hear you, but he is refusing to. In the body, it is a choice one makes. It is too scary for some. “

“Hearing” that voice brought a feeling of connection. I was not the little me next to my husband’s ear trying to be heard anymore. I was not alone. I was heard by someone else.

I was me. I could think. I knew my name. I could hear. I felt great!

That feeling changed gradually from being acknowledged, to recognized. I could feel presences around me, even if I could not see any. There were energies building up. People. I could not see them. I could sense them.

Then I felt a sense of welcoming. These “people” knew me. Truly knew me. I was exposed, all of me, from the very good to what I judged the worst. And I felt love. A pure love without judgement. My very worst was nothing but something that I had to make better, only part of who I was. It was accepted, known and loved by all, amusing to some. My best was my accomplishments, my qualities. All of it was accepted. All of it was me.

I felt tremendous love coming to me. An all accepting and encompassing love.  A love that I never, ever, experienced while in the flesh. A love without judgement. A love without expectations.

It was a wondrous state of being. There are no words, no analogies in the human language to describe the bliss, the love, the ecstasy felt there.

And I felt home. I was back home. A home I forgot I ever had. And I felt like I knew from whom the love was coming from. I knew these souls. They were my family. They were my clan. I belonged to them, and they belonged to me. I knew them, they knew me.

In this state of being, all was available to know, to grasp, to understand. A question formed was automatically answered. There were no secrets, lies, deceptions. Ask and you shall receive.

Where am I?
Home. Here. The same place, a different vibration.

Am I still me?
Yes, but only a part of you. You still do not remember you. You should not stay long.

Am I dead?
No. Still sleeping in bed.

What am I?
You. You left the body.

Wait! The body?

Did I die?

Is this where we go when we die?

Then how?
It happens. You cannot stay long.

Why not? It feels so good. Why can’t I stay longer?
If you stay too long, the body will die. This life will be over.

I am feeling so good! Do I have to go back? Whose decision is it to stay or go back?
Now, yours.

Then can I choose to stay?
Are you ready to leave your family behind? Your children? Are you done with this life?

At that moment, in that state, I started thinking that maybe, the here and there was really appealing. The love felt was addictive. The bliss experienced was too good to pass on. It was selfish thinking. I had young children to take care of. I had a husband that I knew may not have been up to the task of raising the kids alone. A mother and sisters. An extended family. Friends. But why letting go of heaven?

Come with me. Something you need to see.

In an instant, I saw my son. My grown-up son. I was not sure of his age. He was sitting on a couch, his upper body bent over his knees, his hands covering his face. He was sobbing. And I could feel his pain.

I could feel his pain like I could never feel pain before. It was heart wrenching. It was so strong. I could barely think. I could feel pain and a sense of guilt. Who was he crying for? Who was he missing so dearly? What could I do to help? I needed to help! I wanted so much his pain gone!

In my state, his pain felt multiplied by a thousand, by a million, by a billion… it was torture… and I could do nothing about it! It was rolling waves after waves of pain. Never ending, never dampening pain.

I wanted to tell him that all was good, and all will be good. I wanted to tell him that I was here, with him, and that I was so fine! He did not have to worry. And one day, he will be with me, and all that unnecessary pain, all that unnecessary guilt, will be nothing but a small, tiny memory.

Instead, I kept on feeling the pain and the guilt. Guilt that he had not been enough, that he had not been loved enough for me to stick around. Pain at growing up with the guilt. Pain at growing up without a mother’s guidance. Growing up without a mother’s love. Guilt and pain.

And his guilt and pain were mine. They were my doing. They were my selfishness. I chose the bliss over my son. My son that needed me. Needed my love and the security that I brought, and that I chose to take away.

Then, I opened my eyes. I was in my bed.

Was it all a dream?

I got up and rushed to the kitchen. My husband was pouring himself another cup of coffee.

I rushed to the basement. My kids were there, watching something on TV, my son eating his cereals, my daughter on her laptop, both on the couch.

Over twenty years have passed. To this day, I recall every single detail and feeling felt during this experience. I do not believe it was a dream. I believe it was a glimpse of what is to come after my death.

And what is to come is both wonderful and heavy. My death will not absolve me from my wrongdoings. I will have to deal with any bad feelings I may be leaving behind. I will have to feel the pain that my passing, to so much better and glorious things, may cause.

I spoke with my grown children. I asked them to temper their sadness when the time comes. I assured them that I will be more than fine. We will be reunited at one point. There is no need for grief. I will move on, as they will eventually do too, and all is and will be good.

Until then, let us have the best life we can. Let us love each other. And if I make them angry or resentful, let us air these feelings out now.  Whatever these may be, it will be so less painful to deal with them in the body.

Katrin L.






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