I died in 1998. Because I had stubborn doctors, I didn’t stay dead. I was too young to die. I was 29. They put tubes down into my stomach and lungs. They beat my chest until it was bruised. My “electric self” showed them that I was still able to emit electrical signals. Their machines kept me “charged” long enough to allow my soul to negotiate a settlement. My soul decided to stay. The terms were that my body and mind would separate for 3 days. My body would keep time and my soul would rest.
After 3 days my soul had to agree to re-enter my banged up but repairable body. I was young and I had the ability to be a contributing member of the machine we call society.
My soul first presented itself as my sleepy eyes opened to see my father weeping at my bedside. He was holding my lifeless hand and although I knew I was the cause of his heartache I did not want him to see me seeing him in that state. I wanted to observe his anguish, to understand it, to sympathize and to condemn it. My soul did not allow me to process all those feelings nor did it ask me if I was ready. When I opened my eyes, I saw my father looking at me with all the wonder of a child. The fear was gone although the tears remained. The true essence of God was alive and staring at me from a chair at my bedside.
Where did I go? What did I see? Was there a light? Did my dead relatives come to greet me? In short, nowhere, nothing, no, and no. I did not see a light, or a tunnel or dead people or anything close to the movie rendition of life after death. I saw neither light nor dark. I did not feel fear or terror. I had no pain. I was neither happy nor sad. I felt no boundaries, but I felt complete. I now know I felt Love. Not the silly love of adolescence or the materialistic love of things, I felt weightless, in control, omnipresent, powerful, caring, and most of all, joyous.
When I realized my body and soul had signed a contract to stay together, I was angry. I wanted to go back to that peaceful, loving nothingness. I did not want to talk, or rejoice, or celebrate the awakening of my comatose body, I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurt everyone who took me from that place of indescribable peace. Although at the time I did not know it, I understood completely what this world is about and why there is so much sadness.
Fast forward to October 2017. I read a random post on a 4Chan board that was hyperlinked from a Reddit post that was linked in a blog about how the system will always win. It was a sort of inspirational type ramble from an anonymous poster who challenged the reader to the “What if?”. It was like reading page 500 of a fiction novel before pages 1-499 had been written. The poster hinted that the reader was not the author, but the editor and the story was already written. As the editor, the challenge was to take the handwritten and disjointed notes and turn them into a Pulitzer prize winning novel, if, and only if you, the reader accepted the challenge.
Now, fast forward to today. I am still sitting here, still losing sleep, still solving puzzles, still learning. I am watching the world fall around me and I am not afraid or panicked. I have known since that day in 1998 that this reality is but a thin veneer and it was my purpose to protect and guide those without understanding. To be a part of something greater than the earthly power possessed by one human.
I see now that the contract that was agreed to so many years ago was not between my soul and my body, it was a contract that bound me to all the Anons on this board. It guaranteed my family safety. They will not go hungry during this time of great strife. They will not be without answers to the questions they cannot yet formulate. They will be comforted by the conviction of my explanations, as those explanations will be based on facts, collected and collated by these strangers that I have come to know as my brothers in Faith.
It is obvious now that the weightlessness was because I was being held by all of you. Thank you.