I was 7 or 8 years old and underwent surgery to remove the tonsils. Anesthesia had been done by applying a gas via a mask. I felt like the mask was suffocating me. It was a traumatic experience and felt like an act of violence.
Without transition I found myself instantly in outer space. This space was of an ebony blackness without the slightly bluish tone of our night sky. Nevertheless, this immensity wasn’t opaque, nor was it dark. The blackness had an intrinsic quality of light that allowed one to grasp its infinite extent. A multitude of stars filled this space. Their number was quite superior to the stars that one can see at night. They were very large, but distant, and having variable sizes. Their luminosity was a lively white, of a brightness that could be compared to a mix of chromium and diamond.
The object, that was more like an entity, was pulling me along this space with dazzling speed. This entity was an enormous mass without defined form that was malleable and at least a hundred times bigger that me. This form was of a pink color. It was like imagining a cloud that would have the consistency of firm chewing gum, whose form and outlines changed a little bit, while still keeping an integrity. You could also compare it to a kind of muscle made of modeling clay, endowed with its own will. A light was illuminating us. It was of a power and whiteness that was almost material, but not directional. The quality of this Light was related to the one that gave the darkness an internal luminosity. I desperately embraced the form that pulled me along with an incredible speed. I was afraid that if I let go, I would find myself abandoned in this strange space. This pink mass was enormous, but it changed form between my arms, so I could squeeze a small protuberance against my body. However, I had to adjust my position regularly because this slightly soft matter kept changing shape and was escaping me in the long run.
I was scared, and this mass that I sensed like an entity, was exactly what a lifeline would be for a shipwrecked at sea. The enormous rate of speed was frightening.
This journey in a strange space continued without event or interruption until I woke up. After surgery, as soon as I could speak, I only had one need. I needed to talk about this experience. I remember that nobody, including my mother was interesting in hearing about my experience. I say this experience, as I wanted to share and make them understand was not a dream, but was my having lived a strange experience. As an adolescent, I remember having tried several times to talk about it. I always had the desire and the need to communicate this intense experience that felt too heavy to carry unless I communicated it to another person.
Even today, this experience remains with me. It is not like a memory, but rather like an inclusion. It is not like a fragment between the events that fill my memory, but like a parentheses or like an anomaly in the course of my life.