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My Own Bear Death Experience Anecdote
(c) Atham-Z 2006


You may have noticed that the last newsletter didn't include much of my own writing, as I usually prepare these offerings about 2 months in advance, but before the last issue I spent April 2006 seriously ill and recovering in the Canadian hospital system. I have now experienced 2 near death experiences in the past 15 years, and I expect, like at a baseball game, my life will be three strikes and then "out".

Now, I didn't see the long tunnel with the light at the end or groups of my already passed over family and friends waiting for me and then making my own choice to turn back toward life. I did not look down on myself in the hospital setting while medical personnel worked frantically to save my life. In spite of my first crisis following a motor vehicle accident and my second crisis being subsequent to a sudden health collapse, my experiences were simply waking up from sleep.

Obviously both times I was quite disoriented about where I was, but at least upon my waking the first time, the trauma team made it clear to me what had happened and where I was. The most recent episode had me opening my eyes, after finally escaping a dream that went on and on and on that I simply couldn't seem to find an end to or a satisfactory conclusion for. I recall this dream well, being outside a local hospital looking in the windows and being denied entry, but watching the people inside carrying on with their work, even watching floral deliveries. And then I also felt so dirty, dry, hot and windblown, (similar to images in Mel Gibson movies of dry tangled hair on desert motorcyclists). In the dream I couldn't get my fingers through the matts in my hair. My dream self felt my problem was related to picking up some disease on some hot riviera where the spa tools weren't clean enough, and I was stuck in that over heated dusty country. This was a really long dream, as apparently I was unconscious for 5 days!

What I learned from this experience is that for sure, unconscious people (those in a coma) CAN hear what people are saying and doing around them, even if they have to work those actions into their dreams to put them into some type of understandable context.

But this time when I woke up, there wasn't anyone there explaining to me where I was or what had happened, only a clock, that I could see blearily through an almost electric mist. Whether I was seeing the aether or needed my glasses is academic, as the air was definitely thick and sparkling but I could see the minute hand on the clock move and figure out the time when I remembered to focus hard enough. If I heard anything, it was white noise, similar to the air being full of visual static. Unfortunately this medical facility didn't bother to explain where I was or how long I had been there for another couple of days as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Ugh. The length of my fingernails astounded me, and the discomfort and the restrictions of the medical interventions frightened and enraged me. When they insert a "breathing tube" to resuscitate people, those people can't even talk. That on top of being tied to a plastic human sized tray with carrying handles, that obviously would keep my bodily fluids from making a mess on the floor if I died - not a great experience.

And most amusing of all is my naive expenditure to my lawyer last year for a living will about not wanting to be resuscitated - that was totally ignored. I realize now, even if I tattoo that preference on my forehead, the medical system will roll right over me and disregard my wishes.

So to those of you who have experienced the tunnel, the relatives, or the thread to your body while watching yourself from the corner of the ceiling, bravo! I am jealous. You have been gifted with lovely tales to recount and a spiritually positive and optimistic experience. I envy you. For me, all it was - was a bad dream, my mind trying to rationalize my physical experiences during the period I was unconscious. Obviously I still have some business to accomplish during this lifetime. So be it.

 




This page was created November 20, 2006.