Something was wrong...

It was November 27, 1973. I lay in a Seattle hospital bed, recovering from a partial hysterectomy. The surgery had gone well, yet feelings of foreboding settled heavily upon me. A dark feeling was in my room. Death seemed to swirl everywhere around me.
Questions about death filled my mind. What was death like? What awaited me there on the other side?
If it were God waiting, I was sure I did not want to go there. I did not want to meet God. I had been taught he was vengeful and hated sinners, and I knew I had not lived a perfect life.
As the night deepened, I felt more fearful and more alone. The dread of facing God's anger on Judgement Day pressed heavily upon my heart.
But what of the time between dying and the Final Judgment? Where would I go to wait? Not to heaven, I knew. Not to a beautiful place of light and love. I had been taught my soul would remain in the dark grave until resurrection. How I feared the dark. How I hated being alone. Since childhood, I had suffered from claustrophobia. The thought of being buried underground terrified me.
Not the grave! I thought. Not the awful blackness of the grave...
The night closed in on me. Time seemed to slow. I began feeling chilled to the bone and weaker than I had ever felt before. My body was failing me.
Sudden instincts warned me of mortal danger. I reached for the cord near the bed to call the nurse. But I could not make myself move. I lay there paralyzed, a terrible sinking sensation spreading through my body. It felt as though the very last drops of my blood were draining from me.
A buzzing sound began in my head. I sank faster. My senses were fading quickly, though my awareness remained. I noticed my body becoming hollow and still. Too soon, the last bit of my life's energy slipped away from me.

Then I felt a pulse of new energy surge through me and...