As I sat curled up on my favorite chair, reading PMH Atwater's Big Book of Near-Death Experiences, a memory from years ago flooded my mind with vivid clarity. It was an evening that started with beauty and ended in a terrifying, surreal experience that would change the way I viewed life and the fragility of our existence. My near-death experience reconnected me to Heaven, and let me know that on this particular night, there was an incredible intervention from God that granted my family this future we are enjoying. Whether it was a time-jump, or a miracle, or is an alternate future peaks my curiosity, but does not diminish my thankfulness.
My husband Scott and I, along with his family, had just spent a lovely evening at the Bolshoi Ballet. The performance was breathtaking, a dazzling display of artistry and emotion that left us all spellbound. As the final curtain fell, we left the theater, wrapped in the warmth of the shared experience. However, as we stepped outside into the cool, night air, I couldn't shake an inexplicable sense of unease that began to settle in the pit of my stomach.
Scott and his brother offered to bring the car around while my mother-in-law and I waited by the curbside. The streets were bustling with people and vehicles, all caught in the typical post-event rush. As we waited, the uneasy feeling intensified, simmering beneath the surface, an almost palpable foreboding that I couldn't explain.
Finally, the car arrived, and Scott guided me into the passenger seat, his hand reassuringly squeezing mine. As we sat, trapped in the congestion of cars at a stoplight, the city around us glowed brightly. Headlights, streetlights, and the lights from nearby buildings painted a picture of a vibrant, lively night, but inside our car, to me, it felt as though time had stopped. A sense of claustrophobia crept over me, accentuated by the inability to move, to escape in any direction. I gripped Scott's hand tighter, turning from the bright city view outside my window to his calm, comforting face. Just as I did, my eyes caught a movement in the car beside us—a teenage boy was in the driver's seat, his eyes cold and emotionless.
Time slowed as I saw him raise a gun, his gaze locked directly on Scott. In an instant, my world turned upside down. I heard a deafening crack, and then I felt Scott's blood spray hot across my face. My heart seized, my breath caught in my throat, and I screamed, but no sound came out. I turned to look at Scott, but all I saw was a horrifying scene—his body slumped against the seat, his face a bloody, unrecognizable mess.
Panic and despair overwhelmed me, my body collapsing in on itself under the weight of what I had just witnessed. I felt my consciousness slipping, my eyes closing as if surrendering to the darkness. In that moment of closing my eyes, something strange happened. My mind seemed to speed up, rushing through the scenario I had just lived through in reverse, as though it were fast-forwarding through a nightmare. In the midst of this internal chaos, my soul cried out to God in a way that I had never experienced before—a raw, desperate plea from the deepest part of my being. And then, just as quickly as the nightmare had started, it was over.
I opened my eyes to find myself still sitting in the car, Scott's hand warm and steady in mine. He was beside me, perfectly fine, looking at me with concern. The cars around us began to move forward in the traffic, and I realized with a start that we were safe. The boys in the other car simply pulled away, merging into the flow of the city.
It was as if time had reset itself, the terrifying sequence of events wiped away in an instant. My heart was still racing, my mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. Was it a a time-jump? Was I transported to an alternate life? I still don't know. But what I do know is that I deeply felt how thin the veil is between life and death, how fragile our existence truly is.

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