It was a Tuesday night in Miami, Florida. I was 22, from what I can recall. It would have been 1999. I was a college student and living alone. Nothing unusual about that day or my days then in general. I lived a normal college student life. I was healthy and fairly happy.

I went to bed at a little after midnight. I drifted off to sleep and into a terrible nightmare. I found myself in a dressing room with a 3-panel full-body mirror you typically see in a department store dressing room. It felt like I was in a dressing room. I was wearing a knee-length white dress. I was facing the mirror, and I felt compelled to slowly spin around while looking at my dress in the mirror. All at once, I saw what I can only describe as a devil’s face, and I was overcome by an intense all-encompassing feeling of evil energy that washed over me as I spun around. I was shaken to the core, terrified like I’ve never felt before, which woke me up. 

I was so relieved to have awoken. After several minutes of calming myself down, I drifted back to sleep...only to find myself exactly where I had been: in a white dress in the same exact dressing room. I was fully aware I was back. And just like last time, I began to slowly spin and the devil’s face was on the mirror and the evil energy washed over me. The terror and fear felt more intense from the rawness of having just experienced this. I immediately woke up.

I was really shaken and perplexed why I had dreamt this again. I felt terrified to go back to sleep. I wanted to call someone to ease my fear and thought about calling my mom. I remember looking at the clock and thinking to myself, “It’s really late. I can’t call anyone, much less my mother. She’d be really worried about me.” I went back to sleep. And there I was, back in the same exact dream. Again, I was fully aware that I had just repeated this nightmare.

When I awoke, I felt hopeless to overcome the all-encompassing fear my body was feeling—it was to the bones. I rolled over to my left side in a fetal position. Feeling helpless and fatigued, I clasped my hands and prayed deeply, “God please don’t let me have that nightmare again. Please let me sleep.” I surrendered fully into that prayer. I felt it in my body and mind, as if I just completely let go.

I found myself hanging over a canoe—my arms flung over one side while the rest of my body was suspended in the bay water. I found it a bit curious I was here as If I just appeared there from out of nowhere. I was in awe of the most beautiful sunrise that immersed the horizon, illuminating the bay. I took a moment to take in the colors of burnt orange and other hues—it was breathtaking.

I then proceeded to swim over to the nearby shoreline. I noticed a multi-story house sprawled in front of the shore and I walked towards it. I want to say it was a wooden structure, white colonial or Cape Cod-style home. I was greeted by my father as I walked towards the house. He looked to be the same age he was then. He proceeded to walk each floor of the house with me, stopping at each room for me to see. Each room had something going on in it or something to be seen. I don’t recall now details of what was going on in the rooms, but I do remember finding them to be odd and perplexing. Odd, as in they didn’t make sense to me. It was as if some rooms had metaphorical and abstract concepts while others were more decipherable. I was trying to make sense of what I was looking at. I did have the awareness to question whether I was dreaming. We made our way to the top floor and I recall looking down. The house had an opening in the middle of the structure and each floor’s wrap-around balcony was visible. My dad was telling me something while we were at the top floor looking down. I don’t recall what he said, nor do I recall what he said throughout the house tour. I know I was asking questions. I also don’t recall anyone else in the house but us.

Next thing I knew, I was walking outside. I didn’t see the house, but it felt as if I transitioned from walking the house to walking elsewhere outside. Outside had a surrounding of soft whiteness throughout. I was on top of a mountain or hill. Everything was in soft pastel colors with white surroundings and pink and other pastel hues. There was a quality to the surroundings’ color and texture—everything was velvety. Even the ground I was walking on was velvety soft white.

I was greeted by someone else. It was a being with a soft white silhouette. It had a male energy. He was tall, about my dad’s height. He was calm and explained things to me as we walked slowly. The communication between us was telepathic. I was wondering who he was. He seemed to know me. He knew things. He seemed like a being I could trust. He was patient. We came upon the edge of a cliff. I don’t recall anything we conversed about, but I do remember this. I was concerned about the cliff and he told me, “Go ahead and jump. It’s ok.” It was a long way down and vast below. I took notice how the horizon and surface looked so velvety white and the surface below moon-like with soft craters. I took a pause, then I jumped.

I landed softly on the velvety cratered surface. I felt buoyant. I then decided to jump or fly into the air. In that instant, mid-air, I was totally and completely encompassed in a state of love, peace, contentment, and safety I had never felt before. There was a boundlessness to what I was feeling. To put what I experienced into words does not even begin to convey the depths and totality of the state I was in. It was ineffable. I was aware that my mind could not describe in words the magnitude and completeness of what I was experiencing. I was fully aware of the difference between the earth-bound version of love, peace, contentment, and safety I had felt before. I thought to myself, “I will never feel this in my body.” I then realized that what was absent in this state were conditions and restraints that often come with these feelings in our human form. I was completely free in this state of love and peace and contentment. It felt absolutely unconditional and unrestrained. It was pure bliss. It was more than a feeling or a state. It felt like I was made of love, peace, contentment and safety.

I landed back down in a field of vivid and colorful wildflowers. I was sitting on the ground relishing the flowers, and I spread my arms to embrace them. Then off at a short distance, the most brilliant light appeared. It looked like a radiating sunrise, except it was all the color of brilliant white light and had diamond brilliance. I thought to myself, “That must be God.” I crawled closer and I grabbed an armful of flowers and threw them towards God, overwhelmed with gratitude of all that I was experiencing. 

At some point, I paused to think about where I was and how loved and whole I felt. I recall looking up and deep within me I felt a desire to continue on and stay wherever it was I felt drawn towards. I didn’t want to go back. I then immediately looked down towards Earth (although I didn’t see Earth) and thought about how sad my mom would be if I didn’t come back. With a knowing, I thought, “It’s ok. It’s all ok. She will be here eventually and will know of this place. She will see me again.” With a knowing, I perceived that life on Earth was temporary and it was just something we experienced. I felt a diminished sense of the importance of Earth life compared to where I was. Like, “Oh, yeah, life down there.” 

And no sooner than I thought of moving onward, I was transported to what looked like a cobblestone-paved circular road. It felt like I was in a square. I saw carts, horses, and people clad in worn-out clothing. It felt like a different era, and I questioned what country I was in. I then began to sing a song my mom used to sing when I was growing up. It was a classic country song I can’t remember now. I sang that song while I walked the circular pavement. As I sang, I felt I drifted back to my body’s consciousness. I continued to sing aloud as I slowly opened my eyes, gaining physical awareness. I stopped singing and said aloud, “Where did I go?”

After gaining composure, I immediately jumped out of bed and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook and pen and threw myself on the carpeted floor and hurriedly wrote the details of the experience as if I knew the details may start to dissipate. I knew I went somewhere, although I could not make sense of it then. I was not one for writing dreams down, if ever, in those days. I have never seen that notebook since and wish I took care to keep it secure.

As the years have passed, while some finer details have faded, much of the experience and details remain vividly etched in my mind. Over time, I dismissed it as a dream, although a part of me always questioned that reasoning. I never told anyone of that experience until nearly 20 years later and in bits and pieces. Parts of that experience were shared with my sister, husband, and a couple of close friends.

I’m now 47, and two years ago, this experience resurfaced, propelling me into an intense quest to understand what it was. The trigger was an article I came upon, no different than articles I’ve read over the years about near-death experiences (NDEs). I did not go searching for NDE articles, but I did read them when I came across them. These accounts often followed a similar pattern: the experiencer had an indescribable sense of all-encompassing love and peace and spoke of having “gone” somewhere to which the medical explanation attributed their account to a lack of oxygen to the brain. I read this article and I pondered along these lines, “It’s interesting how experiencers use the same words I use to describe mine. And why are these often attributed to a lack of oxygen? I didn’t have a lack of oxygen to my brain. I was not in physical trauma, yet I have a very similar account as these individuals who underwent physical trauma and were actually near death.”

In analyzing this, I had an epiphany. What if what I had was something like an NDE? I had a shift in perspective with this realization and immediately began my investigation into this phenomenon. In the last two years, I’ve consumed several books and tuned into many testimonies of NDEs. Among the patterns I’ve identified similar to mine is the act of surrendering and letting go, which triggers the transition of the individual into another “place.” The act of surrendering and letting go is often accompanied by trauma. For a long time, I wondered if my nightmare and that experience were connected. I lacked the understanding or insight to link the two until I gained a clearer perspective through the NDE stories. I experienced mental and emotional trauma from that nightmare and I embodied that terror and fear which led me to fully surrendering in prayer.

It’s amazing to hear the many variations of NDEs, yet more so to share core experiences with the divine light, the all-encompassing love and peace, speaking to beings who serve as guides, telepathic communication, and knowing things. In my investigation of NDEs I also became acquainted with out-of-body experiences (OBEs). It’s possible I had an OBE instead. Whatever it was I experienced, it was a profound spiritual and mystical experience, and along with this journey of discovery, it has completely shifted and expanded my awareness of existence.