|This picture was taken when they turned|
the Hubble Space Telescope to take a picture
inside a black hole.
I hesitate to post this. I have kept it inside for more than four decades. I have told a few people, but not many. And no one has heard the whole story. Here I have told it as clearly as I remember it. This is true. No details have been deliberately changed.
It had been a cool morning followed by a warm afternoon. My clothes that had me shivering in the morning were too warm. I had just come from gym class, and made an early appearance in math. I sat down in my desk and started moving into a cool peaceful tunnel. There was a bright light very far away at the end that was compelling me into it's presence. I turned around and saw that my friend, Bobby had come in the room and was lifting my torso up from the support bar of the desk and rested my head on the desk. I thought, "Oh, I must have died." But I was very undisturbed by the thought, and calmly turned around and started moving toward the light.
I was moving slowly at first, looking at my surroundings, trying to understand where I was. It was very dark, but a mist, somewhat like fog was there. I perceived it to be round, like a tunnel, but there were no walls or floors defining it. As I was moving I became aware of a noise somewhat like the din of a restaurant with many conversations, but more melodic. And I became more and more aware that there were beings, both people and others just beyond the fog. I was very peaceful and content to be where I was and these creatures seemed to be very kind and welcoming. At some point during this, I became aware that the closer that I came to the light, the more charismatic it became. It was drawing me to it. The focus of my total desire was to be in it.
A thin elderly woman slipped out of the fog and began conversing with me. I had the impression that she was a maternal grandmother, but I didn't know her and had no idea which one. She held me in place and wouldn't allow me to proceed to the light. At that I became very distressed. She was telling me that I mustn't go into it. She said that it wasn't my time and that would come soon enough. I remember that part of the conversation well. I remember a few other things she said well. She told me that if I went into the light my three children could not be born. While she was talking about them, I saw them. She warned me not get divorced, but told me that I would have no other choice but to do it. Then she told me that I would have grave health problems after the divorce. Then something she said made me very angry and I was able to break free of her hold but I can't remember what that was.
I began moving through the tunnel at great speed, fueled by my desire to get into the light and fear that another one of the beings in the fog would catch and hold me back. I didn't want to hear what they would tell me about my future. I was convinced that if I could speak with the being in the light, he could change what the woman had told me. While I was moving at this speed, I noticed that the tunnel wasn't solid, but made of a force that spun, as if it were a sideways tornado. And the fog gave way to being heavenly bodies that I understood as living stars. I didn't know if they had souls, but they were bodies of some sort.
When I finally got to the end of the tunnel I was so overwhelmingly joyous that I was actually skipping and jumping up and down and clapping my hands. Just outside the tunnel was a small white picket fence that was no barrier at all. I flew past it with no problem. Out of the tunnel, I found that I was in a large open field. I was immediately overwhelmed by the colors and smells that were surrounding me. Think of the colors of perfect clear crisp morning when the colors are in their best possible light. When the sky is the deepest shade of blue, and the whitest fluffy clouds drift along in it. The grass and the trees are the purest shades of green, the reds and yellow hues are as sharp as they can be. Consider that to be taupe compared to the colors I was seeing. And the sweetest honeysuckled breeze is nothing compared to the scents that I was breathing. There are no human words to describe the beauty of the place that I had entered. The light was a being and the being was the source of light for the place and everything there reflected the light. The light itself was so intensely and incredibly bright. Brighter by far than the sun on the clearest summer noon. But the light didn't glare or burn. Instead the light was love, pure uncomplicated love. The love was totally and completely unconditional. That was what was so overwhelmingly and powerfully charismatic about the light.
As I continued to approach the light, I realized that it was also pure holiness and began to approach it more carefully, with more respect. But the light reached out to me and drew me in. As I was being drawn into the light I understood my flaws and emotions and even my personality as a fragile chain that was knotted into a solid mess. The love and the holiness of the light was unknotting the chain and restoring it to the form that it was meant to take. As this happened I began to trust the light and accept it's authority. Then in the center of the light was a human form that I knew to be Jesus. We had a conversation but not with words, it was more with just understanding each others thoughts and positions. Jesus knew that I was distressed with what the woman in the tunnel had told me, and that I wanted the plan altered. And I understood that the plan had been put in place before anything was made and that everything was made according to the plan and the plan was for the glory of God. That everything was planned to be richly rewarded. And that it wasn't in his authority to change the plan. Then I wanted to talk to the Father about the plan, but was assured that I could not at this point. That if I did I would have to stay and that I couldn't stay because the plan isn't complete. I stayed in the light not wanting to leave the comfort of wholeness and love and holiness, but began to understand that I must return. Many things were told to me while I was in the light. I remember very few of them. Even though I don't like the plan, I finally accepted it and was immediately thrown through the tunnel and back into my own body.
My body was cold and wet and smelled heavily of salt, and I was angry to be back in it. Angry because I could not stay in that wonderful place where I'd been. When I came back, my classmates were beginning to come into the class. A few of them were standing around me with the teacher. She had a look of angry disgust on her face and said with a snide edge in her voice "Did you have a nice nap?" I told her that I thought that I had fainted. Bobby confirmed that he'd found me hanging off the desk and that my eyes were rolled back in my head. The teacher told Bobby to take me to the office. On the way there I asked Bobby why he'd lifted my head to the desk. He said he didn't want others laughing about the way I looked. I also asked him how long I'd been out and he said for a few minutes.
For months after the experience I was depressed. I had trouble relating to anyone. I spent most of the Summer in my room listening to the Simon and Garfield song "The Sounds of Silence." Friends who were close to me noticed the change and asked me about it. I never felt that I could share it with anyone. I was afraid that they'd think that I was crazy or that I was lying to bring attention to myself. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I'd gotten plenty of attention for just fainting in class. I had no need to make up stories to accomplish that.
I don't think it was an accident that I ended up in the tunnel that day. I think it was part of the plan, and I'm sure nothing happens otherwise. I can't answer your deep philosophical objections beyond that. I know that evil happens. I know that evil people do evil things. I can't explain the plan in that light. The God that I encountered on that afternoon is pure good and holiness. He is not part of the evil. But I have often wondered why it was important for me to go there and accept the plan.
Sometimes things happen, and I know them before they do. It is very inconsistent and random when it happens. I sometimes wonder if it isn't part of the forgotten conversations that I had that afternoon. Sometimes I dream about the tunnel and those dreams are only dreams. They are nothing like the time that I was really there.
There are times when I believe that more people are like me and unwilling to talk about an experience that was all to real because of fear. I see signs of it in Shakespeare and Victor Hugo and William P Young and many others that I wonder if they aren't talking about experiences they have had in the light. I feel like I am bullied and intimidated into not being able to talk about it. But for some reason I feel that all things are made better in the light. If my experience is made known without the expectation for reward for having told it, maybe others will be more free to share also. After all the dialog on cancer didn't happen until people started talking about it anyway.