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But it turns out A. Obviously Gracie is happy for Sienna. Super happy! She helps Sienna compose the best texts, responding to A. Because Gracie is fine. Well, almost all. As a former foster kid, he knows people can up and leave without so much as a goodbye. Ben prefers to spend his time with the characters in his favorite sci-fi books…until he rescues an abandoned mutt from the alley next-door to the Coney Island Library. She even has a list of all the ways there are to make the wish, such as cutting off the pointed end of a slice of pie and wishing on it as she takes the last bite. But when she is sent to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina to live with family she barely knows, it seems unlikely that her wish will ever come true.
Suddenly Charlie is in serious danger of discovering that what she thought she wanted may not be what she needs at all. With no jobs on the island, and no money anywhere, who can really blame the grown-ups for telling a few tales? In fact, he has plans. Big plans. And the consequences might surprise even Beans himself. Makoons by Louise Erdrich series. Named for the Ojibwe word for little bear, Makoons and his twin, Chickadee, have traveled with their family to the Great Plains of Dakota Territory. There they must learn to become buffalo hunters and once again help their people make a home in a new land.
But Makoons has had a vision that foretells great challenges—challenges that his family may not be able to overcome. When the family is on the brink of losing their farm, Maria must decide if she has what it takes to step up and find her voice in an unfair world. In this fascinating middle grade novel, award-winning author Uma Krishnaswami sheds light on a little-known chapter of American history set in a community whose families made multicultural choices before the word had been invented.
For Kit Donovan, it seems downright impossible. When her mother dies of a fever, Kit is certain she is to blame. Granger is profiting from unsafe working conditions in the mine, she convinces her dad to speak out. But sometimes doing the right thing leads to trouble. When the big day arrives, a series of very curious happenings lead to Anne being charged with an epic quest. Anne, Penelope, and new questing partner Hiro have only days to travel to strange new locales, solve myriad riddles, and triumph over monstrous foes—or face the horrible consequences.
Recruited into the ranks of a top-secret young bodyguard squad known as Guardian, Connor trains in surveillance, anti-ambush exercises, hostage survival and unarmed combat. Whatever it takes to prepare him for the dangerous missions ahead. But nothing can prepare Connor for his first assignment when the US president summons him to protect the First Daughter.
For not even the Secret Service knows that a terrorist sleeper cell has been activated in America. A Crack in the Sea by H. The doorway between worlds opens only when least expected. The Raft King is desperate to change that by finding the doorway that will finally take him and the people of Raftworld back home.
To do it, he needs Pip, a young boy with an incredible gift—he can speak to fish; and the Raft King is not above kidnapping to get what he wants. Her specialty? Monster cuisine. But her celebration is cut short when she discovers that her mentor borrowed money from Mr. Boss, a vicious loan shark. Boss for the rest of her life. Worst of all, her only hope in outsmarting Mr. Boss lies with the one person she hates—Greg, the most obnoxious boy in school and her rival in the restaurant business. This story is way better than that one. This pig-in-a-teeny-hat story starts when a very uninquisitive boy stumbles upon a very mysterious society.
After that, there is danger and adventure; there are missing persons, hired thugs, a hidden box, a lost map, and famous explorers; and there is a girl looking for help that only uninquisitive boys can offer. So a risky Procedure is planned to separate them. But life becomes more out of the ordinary with the arrival of an Estonian chess Grandmaster, the revelation of family secrets, and a train-hopping journey. When it all might be over in a few days, what matters most? Meanwhile, something is very wrong in Greater Greensward. Crops are dying, streams are drying up, and large sections of trees in the enchanted forest are withering — all because the Fairy Queen has disappeared.
Without her, there is no peace in the magical kingdom, and dangerous foes threaten to take advantage of her absence. Only brave, tenacious Emma with her knowledge of the land can restore order. But first they have to figure out how. Under the tutelage of a lizard guide named Henrietta Peel and an aeronaut Vijay, the Farah and her friends battle camel spiders, red scorpions, grease monkeys, and sand cats as they prepare to face off with the maniacal Lord Amari, the man behind the machine.
Can they defeat Amari at his own game…or will they, like the children who came before them, become cogs in the machine? They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the Forest, Xan, is kind. Xan rescues the children and delivers them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey. One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic.
Xan decides she must raise this girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Deadly birds with uncertain intentions flock nearby. On a dark night, travelers from across France cross paths at an inn and begin to tell stories of three children. Their adventures take them on a chase through France: they are taken captive by knights, sit alongside a king, and save the land from a farting dragon.
On the run to escape prejudice and persecution and save precious and holy texts from being burned, their quest drives them forward to a final showdown at Mont Saint-Michel, where all will come to question if these children can perform the miracles of saints. Not scorpions, not the boys who tease her, and certainly not jumbies.
Practical Tunnel Construction - Practical Tunnel Construction - Wiley Online Library
Then one night Corinne chases an agouti all the way into the forbidden forest, and shining yellow eyes follow her to the edge of the trees. Or could they? When Corinne spots a beautiful stranger at the market the very next day, she knows something extraordinary is about to happen. Severine plans to claim the entire island for the jumbies. Not since it was burned to a cinder by the sun, which has mysteriously begun the process of going supernova.
The human race has fled to Mars, but this was only a temporary solution while we have prepared for a second trip: a one-hundred-fifty-year journey to a distant star, our best guess at where we might find a new home. Liam Saunders-Chang is one of the last humans left on Mars. Or so he thinks. Because before this day is over, Liam and Phoebe will make a series of profound discoveries about the nature of time and space and find out that the human race is just one of many in our universe locked in a dangerous struggle for survival.
Love, Ish by Karen Rivers. The Metropolitans by Carol Goodman. When Madge, Joe, Kiku, and Walt agree to help, they have no idea that the Kelmsbury is already working its magic on them. But they begin to develop extraordinary powers and experience the feelings of King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Morgan le Fay, and Lancelot: courage, friendship, love…and betrayal. Or can the Metropolitans forge their own story? For generations, his family has led the mice who live just out of sight of the humans, defending Camelot from enemies both big and small.
But when Calib and his friend Cecily discover that a new threat is gathering—one that could catch even the Two-Leggers unaware—it is up to them to unmask the real enemy, unite their forces, and save the castle they all call home. The Mesmerist by Ronald L. Can Jess fight these powerful forces? And will the group of strange children with mysterious powers she befriends be able to help?
As shy, proper Jess transforms into a brave warrior, she uncovers terrifying truths about the hidden battle between good and evil, about her family, and about herself. What took his mother so long to come back? Why does his father insist on ruining the summer with study and training? And why is Xander plagued by nightmares every night? Maybe this whole Momotaro thing is overrated. He just has to be careful not to rely on it too much.
If he does, the baku will not only take his dreams, but those of everyone in the house, forever. Without dreams, there is no hope, no motivation, no imagination, no Momotaro. And then it would be far too easy for Ozuno, king of the oni, to wreak havoc. On his second quest, Xander explores new surreal landscapes, encounters more strange and dangerous creatures, and faces even higher stakes as he learns whether or not he has what it takes to be Momotaro.
Even more shocking? Along with a former nemesis and charming boy from her grade, Abigail goes through a crash course in Spy Training , often with hilarious—and sometimes painful—results. Never mind that no one has escaped the prison in centuries. Valor has a master plan and resources most people could only dream about.
And if the plan fails, she and Sasha could end up with fates worse than prison. She is small enough to squeeze through the tunnels of the mountain and gather the harvest, risking her life with each mission. No work is more important. Sticks and Stones by Abby Cooper. I want to help. With alluring voices that twelve-year-old Lolly has yet to grow into, the Salt sisters do the work mandated by the Sea Witch, a glamorously frightening figure determined to keep the girls under her control. With their mother dead after a mysterious car accident, and their father drowning in grief, the sisters carry on with their lives and duties until a local sea captain gets suspicious about the shipwrecks.
The stars in the sky have come to life to defend themselves against those who want to harness their powers. But can this spirited young girl bring both sides of a larger-than-life fight together before they unleash an evil power even older than the stars? Soon their house is ransacked by unknown intruders, and a very strange policeman turns up on the scene, determined to apprehend them. There are belts that enable the wearer to fly, yo-yos that turn into weapons, buttons with healing properties, and other enchanted objects capable of very unusual feats. But the forces of evil are closing in fast, and when Ivy and Seb learn that their family is connected to one of the greatest uncommon treasures of all time, they must race to unearth the treasure and get to the bottom of a family secret.
Home, where his parents will help him fight back against the vile Chancellor who has captured and altered the wild creatures of the Forest of Wonders. To get there, Raffa must make a treacherous journey across Obsidia. William began to explore science books in his village library, looking for a solution. Elon has sparked new levels of innovation in the world, and this book gives young readers a detailed but fast-paced look at his story. A Latina Jersey girl, Laurie saw her life take a dramatic turn last summer when she was chosen to be a part of the US Olympic gymnastics team.
After winning gold in Rio as part of the Final Five, Laurie also earned an individual silver medal for her performance on the balance beam. She talks about her loving family, her rigorous training, her intense sacrifices, and her amazing triumphs. Saroo had become lost on a train in India at the age of five. Not knowing the name of his family or where he was from, he survived for weeks on the streets of Kolkata before being taken into an orphanage and adopted by a couple in Australia.
Despite being happy in his new family, Saroo always wondered about his origins. When he was a young man the advent of Google Earth led him to pore over satellite images of India for landmarks he recognized. And one day, after years of searching, he miraculously found what he was looking for and set off on a journey to find his mother. You gotta know the rules to play the game.
Ball is life. Take it to the hoop. What can we imagine for our lives? What if we were the star players, moving and grooving through the game of life? What if we had our own rules of the game to help us get what we want, what we aspire to, what will enrich our lives? Some Writer! The Story of E. White by Melissa Sweet. This authorized tribute, a New York Times bestseller, includes an afterword by Martha White, his granddaughter. Meet Donald, who sings off-key; Francine, who likes to eat stones; and Marvin, the man with lots of stuff in his beard.
She prefers to think of it as looking for adventure. But when she climbs to the top of an enormous beanstalk and sneaks into the castle at the top, Harriet finds plenty of both. The castle is home to one very poetically challenged giant rabbit with two unusual prisoners—a girl who is half harp, half hamster, and an extremely large goose. This calls for a heroic rescue, and Harriet is just the hamster for the job. In addition to training to be a super hero, Katana also follows the noble warrior traditions of the Samurai.
With the help of Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Ms. Martian, and some of her other super friends, she intends to find out. But one day, Adrienne starts hanging out with Jen, the most popular girl in class and the leader of a circle of friends called The Group. Now every day is like a roller coaster for Shannon. Will she and Adrienne stay friends? Can she stand up for herself? Follow the lovable duo as they experience somewhat-spooky Halloween parties, ecstatic snow days, and looming summer reading assignments. Forget-Me-Not by Ellie Terry. When she and her mother move yet again, she tries to hide her TS.
But is he brave enough to take their friendship public? Feeling like a failure, he comforts himself with food. Garvey is kind, funny, smart, a loyal friend, and he is also overweight, teased by bullies, and lonely. The chorus finds a new soloist in Garvey, and through chorus, Garvey finds a way to accept himself, and a way to finally reach his distant father—by speaking the language of music instead of the language of sports. Featuring art by: Cozbi Cabrera, R.
Out of Wonder by Kwame Alexander. Stunning mixed-media images by Ekua Holmes, winner of a Caldecott Honor and a John Steptoe New Talent Illustrator Award, complete the celebration and invite the reader to listen, wonder, and perhaps even pick up a pen. What are your favorite middle grade books? Find all of our middle grade recommendations here. Listen Shop Insiders. Sign up to The Kids Are All Right to receive news and recommendations from the world of kid lit and middle grade books.
Thank you for signing up! Keep an eye on your inbox. Go here to enter for a chance to win , or just click the image below. Good luck! Light rays shone all around him. I felt very protected and safe and loved. I wanted to stay because I felt so full of joy and so peaceful.
The voice repeated that it wasn't my time; I had a purpose to fulfill and I could come back after I completed it. At the time, I believed that what happened to me was something everyone experienced. I told my mom and dad about the big glass case I was in after I was born, and the figure in the light and what he said to me. They took my reference to the glass case to mean the incubator. My father was a medical student at the time, and he had read a book about near-death experiences. From comparing the information in the book with what I told them, they decided that's what I was describing.
My mom told me all of this years later when I brought the subject up again. I still have many physical difficulties with my health because of being premature. But there is a strong need inside me that I should help others with what death is, and talk to terminally ill patients.
I was in the other world and I know there is nothing to be afraid of after death. Several years before his death, Bryce Bond, a famous New York City media personality turned parapsychologist, shared with me the story of what happened to him when he once collapsed after a violent allergic reaction to pine nuts and was rushed to a hospital. When I see him, I feel an emotional floodgate open. Tears fill my eyes. He jumps into my arms, licking my face. As I hold him, he is real, more real than I had ever experienced him.
I can smell him, feel him, hear his breathing, and sense his great joy at being with me again. Not yet, it says. I scream out, Why?
TRICK OF THE LIGHT: THE LIGHT & TUNNEL TRAP
Then this inner voice says, What have you learned, and whom have you helped? I am dumb-founded. The voice seems to be from without as well as within. Everything stops for a moment. I have to think of what was asked of me. I cannot answer what I have learned, but I can answer whom I have helped. Then I hear barking, and other dogs appear, dogs I once had. As I stand there for what seems to be an eternity. I want to embrace and be absorbed and merge. I want to stay. The sensation of not wanting to come back is overwhelming. Bryce was also greeted by all of his relatives who had passed on before him.
He experienced these loved ones as somewhat younger in form and face than when he had last seen them, healthier and happier. He remembered racing backward through the same tunnel he had entered when it was time to leave and reviving in time to witness a hypodermic needle being plunged into his arm. I was told by the doctor that I had been dead for over ten minutes. My dad was to follow later when he finished work. We were having company for dinner, and, as we rode along, my mother spotted some wild flowers at the side of the road. She asked if I wouldn't stop the car and pick them as they would look nice on the dinner table.
I pulled over to the right side of the road it was not a major highway , parked the car, and went down a small incline to get off the road to pick the flowers. While I was picking the flowers, a car came whizzing by and suddenly headed straight for me. My whole life flashed in front of me, from that moment backwards to segments of my life. The review was not like a judgment. It was passive, more like an interesting novelty.
Even as I sit here and write my story for you, it seems as though it happened only yesterday. Milke suffered no injury.
The speeding car veered off just as suddenly as it had appeared, and sped away. I have observed that the terror of an ultimate end, the kind of terror that sees no hope, no other alternative except death itself, is sometimes enough to shift people into a near-death mode. Illness, injury, or body trauma is not necessary. It's a copout to me and not the way to heaven. I wish you luck in your research and hope my experience will help stop someone from taking his own life. It is a terrible waste.
Suicide near-death episodes can lay to rest problems and conflicts, explain away confusions, and emphasize the need to remain embodied. Experiencers usually return with a feeling that suicide solves nothing, and they are notably renewed and refreshed by that feeling, using their near-death event as a source of courage, strength, and inspiration. Some are negative, and these can be so negative that they upset the individual more than the original problem that precipitated the suicide. This kind of devastation can be transforming if used as a catalyst to help the person make the kind of changes that comprise constructive, long-term solutions.
Such changes can come from an inner awakening, or from the fear that what was experienced may indeed herald the individual's final fate if something is not done to turn things around. I died then. I felt my soul or something coming right out of my body, like you'd pull a silk handkerchief out of a pocket by one corner. It flew around and then came back and went in again and I wasn't dead anymore.
Through the other noise I heard a cough, then came the chuh-chuh-chuh-chuh - then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door is swung open, and a roar that started white and went red and on and on in a rushing wind. I tried to breathe but my breath would not come and I felt myself rush bodily out of myself and out and out and out and all the time bodily in the wind. I went out swiftly, all of myself, and I knew I was dead and that it had all been a mistake to think you just died.
Then I floated, and instead of going on I felt myself slide back. I breathed and I was back. She said she didn't hear me cry after I was born because I was a 'blue baby. My face was black and blue, and she said the skin was all cut up on the right side of my face. That's where the forceps slipped. I was given a tracheotomy to help me breathe. I am totally deaf in my right ear. Also, the right side of my face and head is less sensitive than the left. When I get tired, the right side of my face droops a little, like Bell's palsy.
All my life going back to my childhood I can remember having this same recurring dream. It is more vivid than any other dream. It starts and ends the same - I am kneeling down and bent over, frantically trying to untie some kind of knots. They almost seem alive. I am pulling on them and they are thick and slippery. I am very upset. Pulling and snapping. I can't see what they're made of.
I remember getting hit in the face while trying to untie or break free of the knots, and waking up crying. Then I would go back to sleep thinking it was only a dream or a nightmare. When the dream would happen again on another night, I would sleep through it longer, as I began to get used to it. I feel like a puppet with all the strings cut. My body goes limp. All the stress and struggle is drained right out of me. I feel very calm and peaceful, but wonder what caused me to lose interest in the knots.
They were important one minute; the next minute I am floating in this big bright light. I know I can't touch the ground because there is light there, too. I look at the light and try to move toward it. I can't, and this upsets me. There is a woman in a long, flowing gown floating away to my left. I call and call to her but the light is so bright sound does not travel through it. I want to talk to the woman. My dream ends there. The ground is wet from rain, yet I find this book lying there - dry. No one is around, so I pick it up. It is on the near-death experiences of children.
That night I start reading it and cannot put it down. For the first time in my life, I now understand my dream. Those knots were when I struggled in the womb with the umbilical cord; getting hit in the face is when the doctor grabbed me with the forceps, then I died. After that, I went into the light. You're not supposed to remember being born. We don't just sit around at parties and talk about what we remember of our birth. We only talk about what our parents tell us. I look forward to having my dream again. I'm ready now to experience more of it than before, and without being upset. It can be argued that since Liona's birth was so intensely traumatic, his repetitive dream may be more of the trauma's replay than any memory of a near-death experience.
And that argument carries considerable weight, as prebirth awareness is commonly reported and often verified. For instance, David Cheek, past president of the American Society for Clinical Hypnosis and a retired obstetrician, believes that humans are remarkably capable while still in the womb. He is quoted as saying: "Babies are at least somewhat aware from the moment their mothers become aware of their pregnancy.
Yet this supposition does not take into account the woman in the long flowing gown who is also part of Liona's dream sequence. The antiseptic uniforms of attending physicians and medical personnel do not explain away this "gossamer" figure, nor does the idea of a mental replay account for how these images have haunted him. Neither does it explain why, since earliest childhood, he has displayed the typical aftereffects of a near-death survivor.
What we are seeing here, and why I have used Liona's case as an example of the initial experience, is that current near-death research has shown that more and more children are being discovered who remember having had a near-death experience, either before, during, or after the moment of birth. This memory usually remains vivid in children's minds either from repeated storytelling after they learn how to talk, or because of repetitious imagery that intrudes upon their dreamlife, as in the case of John R.
By the way, I have found that interviewing children can be as surprising as it is revelatory, for children seem able to hear parental conversations while still in the womb, and can repeat what was heard once they are old enough to talk - with embarrassing exactness. For many years I blamed it on the anesthetic. I had three more children without pain because I believed that if there wasn't any pain, I wouldn't have to have anesthetics that caused experiences like this. Living proof of mind over matter, right?
There was a tiny black dot in the center of all the yellow. Somehow I knew that the dot was me. The dot began to divide. First there was two, then four, then eight. After there had been enough division, the dots formed into a pinwheel and began to spin. As the pinwheel spun, the dots began to rejoin in the same manner as they had divided. I knew that when they were all one again, I would be dead, so I began to fight.
The next thing I remember is the doctor trying to awaken me and keep me on the delivery table, because I was getting up. They told me that she had lodged against my pelvic bone. But the doctor had already delivered two others that night and was in a hurry to get home. He took her with forceps. I've often wondered if my experience was actually hers, instead. Before it happened I was a very weak person who had depended on others all my life. It constantly amazes me that people talk about how much they admire my strength. I developed a lot of character having lived this life and raising four children alone.
I can honestly say that I like and respect myself now. I did not when the near-death experience happened. I believe maybe it was sent to show me that I could be strong. I certainly needed that strength in the years that came after. She expressed disappointment that her case did not match all the wonderful stories other near-death survivors tell. A fellow experiencer suggested that maybe the reason for this was her refusal to "let go" and surrender to the experience, that the battle she had waged so fiercely may have blocked any further development of an uplifting scenario.
This idea is not so far-fetched, since recent research suggests that "surrender" may indeed be the factor that determines not only depth of experience but who might possibly have one to begin with, i.
Into the Tunnels
Yet, if you explore Eppley's life before and after her experience, a startling pattern emerges: This disappointing experience presaged two disappointing marriages, the birth of three more children, verbal and physical abuse, an attempt on her life, plus the ordeal of raising her family without support. The battle fear generated in her near-death episode was the first time she had ever stood up for herself.
By her admission, the strength she gained from that fight enabled her to call upon deep reservoirs of power she never knew she had. Thus, wining one battle gave her the courage to win many. She has since remarried, and is now a radiantly happy woman. What was originally fearsome turned out to be a godsend. Eppley's case is an example of why I challenge the surrender theory. Yes, research is persuasive on this issue: It does appear that people who fight the experience seldom have much of an experience, if any.
Still, there is a question worthy of asking here, and that question is: Would Eppley have benefited as much as she did had her scenario been sweetly angelic? No one can say, of course, but the question is a valid one, for in asking it we broaden the base of our inquiry from concentrating on the event alone to an equal consideration of the one who experienced the event.
Placed in a ward because I was a military dependent, the doctor who was to care for me never came. I was placed at a forty-five-degree angle due to bleeding and was left that way for almost eight days. No one heard my pleas. By the eighth day, I could not hear anyone, my eyes could not see, and I was later told that my body temperature registered I should have been dead.
At first, I did not know what was happening. Then I realized my body was being drawn downward, head first. I panicked and fought, trying to grab at the sides of the vortex. All I could think of was my two children. No one would care for them. I pleaded, Please, not now, but I kept moving downward. I kept grabbing at the sides but my fingers had nothing to grasp. Terror set in, true terror. I saw a black spot, darker than the funnel and like a black curtain, falling in front of me.
Then there was a white dot, like a bright light at the end of the funnel. But as I grew closer, it was a small white skull. It became larger, grinning at me with bare sockets and gaping mouth, and traveling straight toward me like a baseball. Not only was I terrified, I was really livid, too. I struggled to grab hold of anything to keep me from falling, but the skull loomed larger.
My little boy, he's only two years old. With a bellowing yell, I screamed: 'No! Let me go. My babies need me! A white light, the brightest light I have ever known or will ever see again was in place of the skull. It was so bright yet it did not blind me. It was a welcome, calming light. The black spot or curtain was gone. I felt absolute peace of mind and sensed myself floating upward, and I was back.
I heard my husband calling me, off in the distance. I opened my eyes but could not see him. Two doctors were at the foot of my bed - both were angry and compassionate at the same time. I was taken to the operating room, given several pints of blood, and was released one week later. Scoffers almost put me in tears. Everyone laughed at me, including my husband, so I never told my story again - until I wrote to you.
It was the most horrendous, yet the most gratifying experience I've ever had in my life.
17 Near-Death Experience Accounts from "Beyond the Light"
A flood of memories poured forth once Hipple started talking about her experience, including a nearly forgotten incident that had occurred in when she had a tonsillectomy:. I recall being terrified by the mask and the awful smell. I can still taste it as I think about it. As the sedation took hold, there was the vortex, the dizzy spinning sensation, as I was dragged downward into sleep. I screamed, not knowing what was happening to me.
- Prayer Woman?
- Grenzüberschreitungen in Gloria Anzaldúas Borderlands / La Frontera - The New Mestiza (German Edition).
- Psychic Research;
- The Truth About New York’s Legendary ‘Mole People’?
- Tu es petra et portæ inferi non prævalebunt adversus te, No. 10 from Esquisses Byzantines;
- The Fresh-Water Beast Beneath New York’s Streets.
- Motivation beim Fremdsprachenlernen (German Edition).
As she compared the two episodes, she recognized that the vortex experienced during surgical anesthesia in childhood was the same as the one she had encountered as an adult - minus the smell and taste. This association underscores what you find in medical literature. It is well known and documented that certain chemicals, especially ether, can cause vortex or spinning hallucinations.
Missing from medical literature, however, is mention of anything more significant than this imagery. No attention is given to possible aftereffects above and beyond chemical side effects. Hipple suffered no side effects from the sedation she was given in , nor any aftereffects from being pulled into the vortex, except for a dislike of ether.
But her adult confrontation with the same type of vortex did have aftereffects, the kind associated with the near-death phenomenon. Unlike Eppley, Hipple's hellish near-death scenario was lengthy, intense, fully involved, and resolved in "heavenly" light. A dream? It also helped me to be less serious about myself. I'm dispensable. I have discovered I do not value 'things' as I once did. I befriend people in a different way. I respect their choices to be the people they want to be. The same for my own family. I will guide, but not demand.
As for the "Light" - it was then and remains so, my encounter with the most powerful of all entities. The giver of life on both sides of the curtain. After all, I was given a second chance. I am blessed and cannot ask for more. A closer examination of Hipple's life reveals the sudden development of unique sensitivities afterward. The pending death of an unborn daughter was revealed to her in an usually detailed vision.
When her husband died in a trucking accident at am, she was up and prepared for it, and even heard a thump against her trailer home at the exact moment he was killed some distance away. Strange sensations about her sister awakened her from a deep sleep at the exact moment her sister died. I follow hunches that are sometimes quite accurate. Like Eppley, Gloria Hipple now glows with a special confidence, charm, and wisdom. She speaks effusively of God and angels. There was nothing more than that, but it changed my life.
No drug-induced hallucination ever recorded fostered the kind of life-shift that happened to this woman, and she is one of millions. I hemorrhaged on the operating table, and the doctor said that at three times he thought he was going to lose me. The first day after surgery I had to have transfusions. During one of the transfusions I started feeling really weird. I felt like if I shut my eyes I would never open them again. I called a nurse. Of course, she said it was all in my head, and left the room. I remember she just walked out the door and I started being pulled through a tunnel.
It was a terrible experience because all I could see were people from my past, people who were already dead, who had done or said something to me that had hurt me in one way or another. They were laughing and screaming, until I thought I could not stand it. I begged and begged that I be allowed to go back. I could see a light at the end of the tunnel but I never really got close to it. All of a sudden I was back in my bed, just thankful I had not died. They were just coming out of the depression and they already had a baby and could not afford another. When I was born, I was born with a harelip.
Mother thought that was her punishment for wanting me dead. Within several days, and without any surgery, my harelip healed itself, and to this day I do not carry a scar. She also told me that when I was only a few weeks old, she came to my bassinet and found me not breathing. I had already turned purple.
She grabbed me, shook me, and blew in my face until I started breathing again. I don't remember this experience, but I do remember being in a bassinet that had no liner. I remember studying my hands and what my hands looked like as an infant. My mother said I couldn't possibly remember this, but I did, and I was right. Until the age of four, Brock survived numerous nearly fatal accidents that caused cessation of breath.
Her memory of each is detailed and verified by relatives, even though several occurred when she was only a toddler. Right from her earliest years I suspect from when she was but a few weeks old , she displayed the typical aftereffects of the near-death phenomenon, including stunningly accurate psychic abilities, extended perceptual range, and heightened faculties. Like Hipple, she has been visited by the dead, "advised" of pending deaths, and has known the exact moment individuals died.
Yet Brock has been haunted throughout her life, and not just by the deceased who grabbed at her in death's tunnel. An overshadowing theme of "Why would anyone want to harm me? It's almost as if her mother's prayer that she die imprinted her brain in some manner. I say that because Brock's many brushes with death, even as an infant, were precipitated by acts of self-destructive behavior. That single overshadowing theme continued to undermine the satisfaction that her many accomplishments in life should have given her.
This did not change until after her husband's suicide in At that time, according to Brock, her father and son, long since dead, and her recently deceased husband, physically and in broad day-light, drove up to her front door in an old Cadillac, honked the horn, and called out, "We're together now and we're okay. We just wanted you to know. This ghostly spectacle gave Brock the reassurance she needed to finally free herself from the "ghost" of her own past. Her mother's death decree, which she had subconsciously been trying to both justify and nullify throughout her life, was finally put to rest when her husband's suicide forced her to confront her own life's issues as she came to terms with his.
In Brock's case, her near-death episode was but one in a long series of similar events that finally brought her to that point of peace within herself where true forgiveness and understanding reside. Our investigation begins with what happened in the spring of to Jennine Wolff of Troy, New York. She was thirty years old at the time. Due to complications from endometriosis, she suffered numerous bouts of hemorrhaging, several surgeries including a hysterectomy , an additional hemorrhage of massive proportions, and, finally, emergency surgery. I felt whole and loved. My sense of well-being was complete.
I heard celestial music clearly and saw vivid colored flowers, like nothing seen on earth, gorgeous greenery and trees. All he said to me was that it was up to me whether to come back to earth or not. I chose to come back to finish my work. That is when I was born again. I am now more aware of people's feelings, beliefs, and needs. I am more compassionate and considerate of others. Also more confident in God's love. When you delve into Wolff's history, a fascinating pattern emerges one of disciplined devotion to the spiritual path.
Raised in a strict but loving Presbyterian home, she suddenly developed the ability to have visions when but a teenager. Her concerned parents took her for evaluation to the spiritualist camp of Lily Dale, located in New York State. These experienced psychics advised them that their daughter had a special gift, and that she must decide whether to go on with a normal teenage life or commit herself to spiritual training. She chose to develop her gift. At the age of twenty-one and after seven years of instruction, Wolff met Sam Lentine, a blind biophysicist.
He had the scientific background; she had the spiritual. Together they formed a professional partnership dedicated to the restoration of true health and wholeness throughout humankind. Fourteen years later, after the partners had made tremendous strides in the health field and were becoming internationally known for their ability to facilitate the healing process, Lentine died. Today, Wolff is a waitress at a senior citizens' facility. I felt like a baby afterward, and, at the age of thirty, was faced with learning about life all over again.
I couldn't stand light at first. When I could, everything became brighter and better than before. My whole perspective drastically improved; I felt more grounded, solid, okay. My psychic gifts skyrocketed. But it still took me a long time to readjust. The doctors said, Oh, it's just the stress of what you've been through. I disagreed. What I was going through was unrelated to the surgery. My mother and father understood, and, especially, my mother's constant love and support made it possible for me to grasp hold of my new life and deal with it.
My death stepped up my original commitment to serve as a healer. I was much more understanding of others. When I went back to work, Sam and I peaked in our performance - we did our best work. Five years later Sam died. You have to understand how close we were, how bonded our families. Even though I knew death didn't end anything, Sam's transition threw me.
I had to readjust all over again.
I work with older people now, giving them my love with each touch. I don't know what's ahead for me or where I'll go, but I am taking massage classes - learning to heal in a different way. My life is now in God's hands. New opportunities for me to serve are opening up. For half a minute I could see both worlds at once. Finally, when the earth was all gone, I stood in a glory that could only be heaven.
The tops were snowcapped, and the slopes were adorned with foliage of indescribable beauty. The mountains appeared to be about fifteen miles away, yet I could see individual flowers growing on their slopes. I estimated my vision to be about one hundred times better than on earth. It seemed to be alive. The whole landscape was carpeted with grass so vivid, clear, and green, that it defies description. To the right was a grove of large, luxuriant trees, composed of the same clear material that seemed to make up everything.
They were having a hilarious time holding hands and dancing in a circle - fast and lively. As soon as they saw me, four of the players left the game and joyfully skipped over to greet me. As they approached, I estimated their ages to be: one, thirty; two, twenty; and one, twelve. Their bodies seemed almost weightless, and the grace and beauty of their easy movements was fascinating to watch.
Both sexes had long, luxuriant hair entwined with flowers, which hung down in glossy masses to their waists. Their only clothing was a gossamer loin cloth with a loop over one shoulder and a broad ribbon streaming out behind in graceful curves and curlicues. Their magnificence not only thrilled me, but filled me with awe. We lived on earth, just like you, 'til we came here. I looked, and it was translucent; that is, I could dimly see through it. Next they had me look at the grass and trees.