It’s not my time

sometime late 2004 ~

My grandmother and my uncle had just recently passed and I was trying my hardest to get on with my life.

Life goes on. Get over it. All these cliches mean nothing when you are still in shock and not even grieving yet.

It was a Friday afternoon, I was working from home and had showered and gotten dressed up to go see some friends for Coral Gables Gallery Night. I was out the door and headed for my car, when I hear my neighbor through the hedge.

“Psst, neighbor. Wanna burn a little?’ Back in those days, I would smoke pot here and there, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. I joined him smoking through the fence between our houses. After a couple of puffs, I started to feel strange, really strange. I remember my neighbor saying “Damn, I forgot, It’s dirty”

I didn’t know what he meant but I assumed the joint had been laced with something. I clearly couldn’t go anywhere and quickly went back inside. I suddenly started to feel a certain kind of desperation and a shortness of breath. I smoked cigarettes back then and I went through out my home collecting all cigarettes, lighters and ashtrays and threw them out.

I then went upstairs and got in my bed. I closed my eyes and that is when I saw the white light. The stereotypical tunnel with the white light was in front of me, around me, in me. In an instant all sense of lower emotions were gone. It was the most blissful feeling imaginable. I threw myself into the light wholeheartedly. Oh I was outta here!

Then there they were. My grandmother and my uncle, in the tunnel on either side of me. They said it wasn’t my time and that I had to go back. But I did not want to come back. A one of them reached out and placed their hand on my forehead and pushed me back into my body.

I didn’t wake up until the next morning. I’ve since read about all human beings having several different exit points or death dates to choose from. If this is true, I am one down for sure.