On morphine, lying in a hospital bed, outfitted with tubes and electronic-sensor hook-ups on my chest like a pet octopus, I conversed with a host of beings who were giving me my spiritual name. My partner of five years stood by. I was filled with a desire to tell her everything I had learned on this morphine, an hour after having had a massive heart attack. Primarily, I had learned that the absence of fear is ecstasy! My spiritual name, I was shown, was a beautiful energy symbol in pale orange and pale pink. The surrounding light was yellow-white, and I later tried to paint its brilliance.
Suddenly, five people, doctors and nurses ran into the room, pushed my partner into the corner and began working furiously for another five minutes. As suddenly as they came in, when done, they all left.
It was not until many years had passed that, in conversation, I learned that it was not the morphine that was giving me these incredible experiences and understandings, but the fact that when my partner looked at the monitor screen, she saw that I was dead. READ MORE