Riding my bike past a golf course, I see a van run a stop sign; however, I'm unable to swerve out of his way. I'm staring through the van's windshield at the driver and hoping he doesn't hit his brakes. He does, though, and now I'm flying. It's an odd sensation to be sailing through the air like some sort of awkward flightless bird. I don't remember hitting the pavement because I was distracted by the intensely bright column of white light shining out of the top of my body's head. I have only a moment to grasp that I'm outside of my body, and then, swoosh! I'm sucked up the column of light like an envelope in a pneumatic mail tube.

I'm standing in a place of love. It's completely enveloping, and I'm thoroughly immersed in feelings of loving acceptance, calmness, and of being home (of belonging). There's a glow of golden light ahead of me in the distance, and I need and want to get there. But as I take a step forward, a golden being blocks my way. Humanoid in shape, there are no features, no clothes, nothing but a glowing being who exudes an overwhelming sense of calm and agape. The right hand of the being is raised palm outward in a stopping motion, and in my head I hear, "You must go back."

I'm devastated. I don't want to go back. I want to stay in this place of love. It shakes its head, hand still in that stop position, and in my head I hear, "It's not yet your time. You must go back." "No, please--I want to stay..." I think back. And suddenly there is a horrible shrieking sound that pierces my head. I'm back in my body, which is lying on the street, and I'm screaming. There are EMTs and other people hovering around me, and the driver of the van is on his cell phone. I was only gone for a few seconds, maybe a minute, yet it seemed longer. The feelings of disappointment, of missing out on something stupendous, were strong.

I need and want to get back (to stay), but until then the short trips I now take seem to help me. Each time I've stepped over the barrier between this life and the next, it's been to help someone who is dying. Since the accident I've found myself acting as a guide to those crossing over. I understand their fears, and it has helped me overcome mine, too. My fear was that it wasn't real, that it was a dream and that I'd never get that loving feeling back. But I can, and I do, and that has helped me overcome the horrible disappointment I felt in having to come back.

I now know that I can cross over there and experience those feelings again and again, and once I'm done with my life here, I know what's waiting for me, so I'm not afraid. And I'm not afraid to help others with their fears, either.