The dirty business of NDE

Another one of many, sob...

Comes a time where enough is enough. You can believe whatever you want, you cannot make me believe for something up there or something else than your body exhaustion building up and up and up during a Near Death Experience.

It’s common discussion in our modern era to put belief on things we might not understand, on things that perhaps does not need to be understood and hence creating a whole illusion and tale dressed in the appearance of the easily digested “truth”. And F*** 153 000 000 results on Google. Gosh.

As for me, stayed several weeks in this state. I don’t remember a light, a music, a truth coming to me, I remember the weight I’ve lost and the heavy exhaustion I felt after. ‘cause well, I wasn’t sleeping, I just wasn’t awake during all this time.

The only vivid memories of it came around the last week before my wake-up call. For me, nothing to do with another force, just my perceptions that started to focus right. I remember a wall colored as yellow canari, a deep feeling of being sea-sick. Hence my brain made the link, and made me think I was in a submarine on the Italian coast during the second world war, and I had to be treated in the awful, but needed, bubble, same closed bubble as created by an hospital.

Yet, “Fully awake”, I did have straight the sense to get peace on my mind and understand it wasn’t my fault to have entered this dark night, and most of all it didn’t involved anybody else.

It was all I needed. Yet, after relatives and friends treat me differently while I seeked normality and fair judgement of my abilities, many times I have been directed to psychologist, psychiatrist and so on. But Why? Why should I have to understand? Could I just ignore and go. And most of all, how can an unknown person, as doctor as he/she can be, can make the difference between th sh*t that happens before and after. so.

'cause at the end, it wasn’t that bad.

Yet, when it happens again, not so bad, but well, waiting at a red light and being bumped hardly behind from a german driver where i would take easily generalities, it is still not a nice feeling and too vivid in my life to be digested socially.

Yet, even more standing, 'ause Believe, but most of all, Live

Because what I got from all that? Between living and dying, there is a whole extatic dimension. Some calls it adrenalin, some calls it insane, some life:

Henri Moufettal 2014 - henrimoufettal@gmail.com

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