In August 1976, I had just been divorced for the second time. I had just left my four-year-old daughter with my parents. Then I went to fill up with gas. I left with my beige-colored Ford Fiesta and then decided to go to say good-bye to a girlfriend. On the way into town, I needed to take a left hand turn. This was located at the entry of the town and in a sharp descent for those that were coming into town. I didn’t see anything coming, so I turned left. I noticed too late that a white car was coming and it hit my car with great impact. It spun me around 180 degrees and ended in a wall near an electrical box. At that moment that I was slamming on the brakes, and as I had no seat belt on, I went upwards. I collided with the steering wheel in my stomach and the chin. When the car stabilized, the motor was still running. I wanted to shut off the motor but discovered that I couldn’t do this move. At that moment, a car of the Red Cross came along. The doctor got out with a stethoscope to get my blood pressure.
I saw the doctor and the people who were around me, but I was already gone. I heard the doctor saying ‘She’s done, I don’t feel anything.’ I saw a lighted tunnel. I had no weight. I didn’t see myself but knew that I was floating. It seemed imperative to me to go to the tunnel. A few seconds later, I was stopped. I heard a voice saying, ‘No we cannot keep you. You have to experience terrible and painful moments. You have to get back down [to your body]. We can’t do anything for you. That’s it.’ I was screaming, ‘No, I want to stay!’ Again, I was told, ‘No, you can’t stay.’ I kept refusing to go back . Then I was sent back with power and high impact, between the two eyes. Later, I learned that there’s a chakra there.
There I heard the doctor saying, ‘She’s coming back.’ I felt all my fractures and my body that was hurting. I was alive and scared. Help arrived. I was taken out of the car and that was terrible. Everything happened, and I experienced terrible times and suffered a lot. I know that there is a life after death; that’s all to my story.