I was born to a regular, working-class two-parent family in South London, of no denomination, with the family mantra of ‘it’s not real unless I can hit it.’
I entered nursery at four years old, where a Priest and a local Police Officer abused me. I then moved to primary school at four and a half. For the next two and a half years, I was subjected to violent, sexual abuse by the headmistress and school inspector, resulting in a severe operation (and still no alarm bells rang).
After moving home with my parents and going to a new school, we soon regretted the move as we had moved slap-bang into the UK residential version of a warzone with burnt-out cars in the garden, at least once a week, fights, shootings, rapes, etc.
An excellent example of how bad it was - the Police were so afraid of the area they ended up spending years petitioning the government, who eventually gave way and gave the council permission to tear down the whole estate to break up the place.
My childhood in that place, from six and a half years old upwards, consisted of looking after my regularly drunk Mother and Father while avoiding beatings and mental abuse.
Both parents had turned to alcohol because of the area and protecting my four siblings, one whom had breathing problems. Each night was a battle of people attempting to break-in, windows smashed, or hearing the screaming and fighting.
Throughout my childhood, I saw and felt things. I had premonitions, knew things I could not or, more importantly, should not, but I do not want to focus on that here as it is so vast and unbelievable that I am thankful there were always witnesses that are still alive.
One night I watched as there was trouble outside my house, and a man walked out into the street and shot at a Police Officer through the front windshield of his car. The fear I felt was extreme.
Not long after, I went back to sleep. I was awakened by my Father shouting as he pinned my Mother to the floor in my doorway, screaming he would hit her, obviously drunk. He stopped upon realizing I was awake. I forgive them both because neither were model parents, but you only get one set of parents, good or bad; and I realized that they were just kids themselves struggling to get by in life as I got older.
By the age of fifteen, we were leaving to move to the coast, and I was still an outsider and bullied being the ‘boy from London.’
I eventually met my wonderful wife Lorraine, and within three months had moved in together as I knew I could never live without her.
In November 1998, we moved into our first home and had such paranormal phenomena the Church asked the landlord to close the flat. We instead called in a very wonderful man, who later became my teacher – Jim. I called him Yoda as he was five foot nothing, Irish with big ears and as wise as the hills.
Jim was a Spiritualist Medium and made me come to the apartment with him. Something happened that changed my way of seeing things from then on and led me down an exciting next ten years investigating all manner of phenomena.
In 1999 my Son was born (again, a story unbelievable). We eventually got married in 2002 and were graced with a baby girl in 2004 – where we moved to Ireland until 2007 when I lost my baby brother Daniel to Sudden Adult Death. Daniel was the brother I sat awake all my childhood watching breathing so he did not die.
It broke me, and I became angry. I left Ireland with my family and struggled to live from place to place on destruction mode. The pressure was building, and the anger I felt was unbelievable.
I went into a doctor's surgery in May 2007 with a shoulder injury, and over the next three years, all my medical records were so severely mixed up that I ended up on 24 tablets that were not mine, plus dozens of procedures and tests. I also put on ten stone and became more and more ill as the NHS told me the records were right despite knowing they were not.
On 20th June 2009, I went to meditate on my bed. We lived with my one day to be brother-in-law as we were homeless and he had lost his Mum. Since he was a child and Michael was best friends with my deceased brother, I had known him, so he had a place, we needed a home, and he wanted company, which helped us both.
I laid on the bed and closed my eyes, and after a while, I saw a man's head appear before turning into a snake that made me wake up with a start. I made my way downstairs uneasy as I would not say I like snakes.
There was no TV at that time in the living room as we were getting one, so we ate and played cards. Around 11 pm, we went to bed, and as my daughter had a cold, and so did my Son, I slept in the single near the wall with the baby in with my Wife and my Son on the single the other side of the room.
At 03:00 am, I sat bolt upright as there was a light – I know it was this time as the digital alarm clock shone proudly, but it was not the only thing shining. My brain took a minute to process that the whole room and everything in it shone with a brilliant light that did not hurt my eyes. I remember thinking, “Whys the sun up?”
I put my hand down on the bed and noticed an identical hand on the bed next to it. I knew straight away that the hand I was looking down at was my own hand as I have a scar on my left hand that looks like a Klingon symbol out of Star Trek.
Somehow, I turned to face my body laying still in the bed, not breathing, and I remember saying, “…oh well, he’s dead.” (Note: not ‘I’m dead,’ as if I knew it was a shell already – always makes me smile remembering that moment and I do not know why.)
I then thought, I know I am dead, but I need to prove it and get back to show Lorraine, as my Investigator nature kicked in. I touched the cold wall with my head and hand and felt it. I looked around and saw a white pair of sports socks, and they were glowing also on top of the dresser, and I remember saying, “How did she get them that bright?” Daft things you think as a person, huh?
There was no fear, scary feeling, or negativity, and I will fail in an epic way if trying to describe what I felt, but I will try. Imagine peace, real peace, calm, love, joy, bliss, acceptance, being cuddled by all those you love, wrapped up in bubble wrap, and cotton wool. There was no conception of a negative feeling or emotion or thought; they were alien there. I have failed by an infinite distance to describe it, but I am sure those who have experienced it will get emotional at this point, remembering it too as I am.
I quickly devised a plan (yes, always been quick on my feet). I figured if I could get to Michael downstairs and listen to his BBC World Service on the radio next to him – which I knew played every fifteen minutes – I could hear the news, remember it, and then get back into my body hopefully.
No sooner had I thought it than I was beside him. No walking, no sense of travel, no surprise – as if it were normal. I felt upstairs and here with Michael also. I listened intently and remembered details. At the end of the bulletin, I thought about upstairs, and I was there again!?!
I truly felt I was one of many who made up the one, and the one made up the many. I knew I felt intimately connected to everything in all of existence and time, every molecule and atom. It was the most…sorry my words fail…it is making me hurt as it was such complete and pure love and peace.
I felt I could stay there, then glanced around at my Son, my Wife, and finally, my baby girl, and something told me I need to be there for them. As soon as that thought entered my mind, it was as if the offer were already withdrawn and the decision I had made was already set in stone; but if I went back, I would be in a lot of pain and go through hell.
I accepted, and at that moment, two things happened. One, I felt everything I had ever done, said, did not do, did not say, and all outcomes as if my whole life was laid out in feelings through me in all choices – so hard to explain.
Then I saw a chalkboard with writing I could not read, and a chalk rubber was rubbing the words out till it was clear and then I felt as if I were given a rolled-up scroll that was blank, and I heard a voice that makes me go goose-bumped to this day as I miss him so much.
The voice said, “There you go, boy; have another go,” in a perfect South London accent…It was my Grandfather who died of cancer when I was four, and my last memory of him is being held in his arms.
I looked around and saw my body and figured that if I held my breath (yeah, laugh) and lay down, I must stick somewhere with all that blood and guts; after all, if Patrick Swayze can do it, I can!
I laid down and wrinkled my nose, and it was like an empty suit of armour. I started to rock and shake to stick to something when the sound of fizzing like popping candy mixed with buzzing appeared all around my body, and I woke up taking a deep breath, in the dark, hurting like hell.
I woke my wife up, relayed what happened, recorded all I said, and later checked it, but hospital first!
On Friday, July 19th, 2009, I had a full heart check-up at the hospital. After attending after my NDE, the results were sent to the same cardiologist who stated some weeks later that (again, I am not a doctor or medically trained) the heart and blood showed it had stopped and changed pattern or something.
Anyway, I felt great – full ‘love thy neighbour Bob Dylan experience.’ The following month I had vivid dreams and memorable experiences until we lost our baby, and I then have no memories until 2015. I spent six years on autopilot, a human shell, bedbound, and my wife and family kept me alive as the NHS continued to medicate and do treatments on me. I had multiple flashes of personality but mostly was a scared child.
In 2015 I came around and found myself in a strange house, in an unfamiliar area and thirty-nine stone. I lost ten stone and stopped all drugs, and now I am fighting my way back. I educated both my children – one currently studying as a Computer Engineer and the other a Nurse, and my wife is starting training as an Accountant.
So much love from them kept me alive, and I can never thank them enough. All I can do is give them all I am, to push them, knowing I stayed for them no matter the cost.
I have no ego, no material needs, no interest in glory, or anything. I am happy watching the wind or rain, clouds in the sky, or simply sitting quietly. I feel changed and know I touched the face of God or whatever you wish to call the source.
In just this last week, I was awakened by the sound of what sounded like hundreds of Angels singing so loud in harmony in a giant hall. It was so loud that it shook my bedroom and affected the CCTV outside the room flickering at 04:44 am. I called out to my wife as I cupped my ears, and as she awoke, it was as if the sound was dialed down.
I do not feel alone, and I know a lot that I have never said or written and may write a book to take the sting out of the myth of death and the love God has for all of us.
No one needs fear.
This has been very hard to write, let alone read over – so please bear with me and no negative comments. All I write is 100% truth and a great deal verifiable.
I am writing as I struggle with my identity since my NDE as I do not know who I am, as if the old me is someone I do not know or particularly like or understand. I want to meet others, to listen, make friends and learn because unless you have experienced an NDE you truly do not know or can imagine how it feels and how much it changes you and your very outlook on life.
Which is funny as I felt more alive there than here!