Dying changes a man. Dying twice makes a man wanna change.

The title of this article is truer than most will ever realize. I have died and been ressurected twice in the last ten years.

The first was unexpected and made me appreciate life.

The second wasnt and made me appreciate GOD and others.



The death and revival process is something i wish everyone could experiance for themselves, not the pain but the after-effects. It was a long drawn out process, the act of trying to understand what the actual changes were. The actual dying was not as i have heard others say. There was no white light or hovering over rescue workers as they tried to revive me. The was only the feeling that some how i had been cut off and restarted, to me the time between death and returning to life was instantaneous, to others it was a very difficult 3 hours. But i feel i need to explain further, Probably from the beginning would be best.

The first time I cursed god, I hadnt breathed in almost 6 minutes and I had pee'd my pants 3 minutes into it. I have to say i had done things others would consider terrible if not worst. I can blame it on the ghetto environment, but i won't. I now understand that the ghetto environment goes no further than my outer epidermus, but i diddnt know that then, so i got caught up in it. Eye for an eye and all that. Four minutes into it my bowels released. For some reason this made me more angry than anything ever in my life, including the death of my favorite aunt. I caught the doo-doo (for lack of a better word) in my hands (I was naked by that time, heat or something? made me strip) I hurled it at the wall and cursed god for allowing me to die like this, i was anxious to meet him, aching for a fight with the creator, can you imagine?. I was never afraid of death, many had gone before me, so what was the big deal. My exact words were i beleive, "How can you let me go out like this, after all i have been through?" No reply, at least i thought at the time. I lasted cursing and snarling, while my wife cried and screamed, for another 2 minutes, tearing down a ceiling fan durring that time. Pain is a blukka blukka.

I have to go into pre-events for this story to be fully understood. Prior to this a lady who my uncle went with when i was young, saw me in the emergency hospital with my girlfriend and told me she had been seeking me for years, to give me a message from GOD. That message was that he had been protecting me and mine from harm for my whole life, because i ws special. She went on to say that that umbrella was being lifted and i had to choose soon. I had always seen myself as on a fence, able to go to either side and safely make it back to home base. Evil could not touch me. I had also made me peace or so i thought with god and the other one. I explained to god as a child that there were 5 billion religions and if i had to pick the right one or go to hell, well then I diddnt want to play, he could pick for me. I have always been very religious, talking to god as a friend would, no knees and folded hands for yours truly. And as for that other fella, well he understood that i had no fear of him either, my thinking was if, he took the time to personally come and threaten me, well he would show himself and i would KNOW and thus be entitled to heaven, by his actions. Life was easy. To end this side bar, 2 weeks after she told me this in the emergency room, i was shot comming from work and in a way that couldnt be denied. I had been shot at many times and escaped in impossible ways, god was always with me. Long story short the bullet hit me up under my outstretched arm in the side of my chest, parrelel. I should have been dead. But...... The bullet bounced off (of nothing) and exited my shirt sleeve (long) setting my shirt on fire. Impossible. I diddnt heed the warning. And this was not one of the deaths i write about .

After i tore down the fan i set down a bit and sat to wait for the ambulance. I could see my son outside in his draws waiting also. That made me smile, and i ceased to fight death. I awoke sitting up some time later in I.C.U. dead for 11 minutes. But that is only the beginning. Exactly a year after being shot, i had a dream that i couldnt move (this story has tears in my eyes even now) My girl was next to me but i coulnt move to wake her. I could see the room crystal clear. (later like 9 years, this year I figured that the closet light was in the wrong corner of the room, only thing identifying it as a dream) In the dream that i didnt know/feel/think was a dream, a man in scuba gear like G.I Joe came and smothered me, i fought and fought, woke when i gave up fighting, I sat up in that instant awake alive. This is so scary/touching/weird because later when i died the first time, it went the same exact way. asthma killed me, smothered. I fought and fought, and sat up in I.C.U at the exact instant i stopped fighting. Weird!!!! x a billion. Life went on and i am hard headed, that changed me to a level i could not even begin to understand or even comprehend, as i said i have/had? a hard head.

The second time was even strabger and i will write about that tomorrow or the next day. I can't tell the whole story, i will start crying like a little girl, i truly am special and touched and i really do have a mission. It took me ten years of finding myself to figure out what it was. Oh yea and i cam full circle, i wasnt lost, i was always me, GOD just wanted me to notice. I did. But i will tell the 2nd time dying story tomorrow? It's a whole lot harder to tell than the first time, remember i said i was hard-headed? You only know the half. See ya tomorrow. And god bless. And i dont feel like brilliant begging right now so do/don't the donate button is clearly marked. Thanks and return because i have to get this story out to go on to my next level of understanding. And the only thing stopping you is you, Born lone, die alone. Please understand that, and life will change a measure.
90 Minutes in Heaven: A True Story of Death & Life

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