About fifty years ago, Dr. Bruce Greyson was eating pasta in the hospital cafeteria when his beeper went off. Startled, he dropped his fork and left a drop of spaghetti sauce on his tie.
Greyson, a psychiatrist, was urgently needed in the ER to treat a college student who had overdosed. With no time to change his dirty tie, he grabbed a white lab coat and buttoned it up to hide the stain.
In the ER, he found the student unconscious on a gurney, her breathing slow but regular. He called her name — “Holly” — and tried to rouse her. But she didn’t stir.
Greyson left Holly and met her roommate, Susan, at the end of the hall in the lounge. Unbuttoning his coat, he sat down and asked Susan to recount everything that had happened.
The next morning, Greyson returned to work at the hospital. Though Holly was awake, she was also groggy, her eyes closed.
Greyson leaned in.
“Holly, I’m Dr. Greyson,” he said.
Holly stirred.
“I remember you from last night,” she mumbled.
Greyson was confused.
“I didn’t know you could see me,” he said.
“Not […]
I died in a 1987 motorcycle accident and was lucky that a police car came along and sent me to Mercy Hospital which was only 2 blocks away and they brought me back to life using their wonderful techniques. I enjoyed being part of the Cosmic Consciousness of the Universe during my time in which I was out of my body. I didn’t even want to come back because it was so enjoyable, as well as enlightening.