I was standing in the hospital hallway when I saw four medical staff working on me. I said aloud, ‘I’m dead.’ As soon as I said that, I felt a warm feeling wash over me. At no time was I scared, worried or concerned. I felt so much peace and calmness. I then heard a voice to my left telling me, ‘I’m impressed.’ I turned to the voice and saw my Dad. His back was against the hallway wall. As he walked to me, he said, ‘I’m impressed. A little John Wayne-ish, but I am impressed.’ The wall of the hallway began to dissolve behind my Dad. Behind the dissolving wall was a large valley that was very green with a few trees. Further away, I saw large mountains with very blue water in front of them. The sun was behind the mountains. My Dad was smiling with a very bright light on him. At that time my Mom walked between me and Dad. She turned to him and said, ‘We have to hurry, I don’t want to be late.’ I then turned to my Dad telling him, ‘I can stay here, I want to stay.’ My Dad grabbed my upper left arm and turned me around to my right. I saw a rolling countryside with an old farm on it and a well-worn pathway made by animals pulling wagons. My Dad said, ‘You have to go through the gate.’ My feet were still on tile flooring. My Dad placed his hand on my upper back and began to push me through the gateway. As I went through the gate, he told me, ‘Tell everyone to be nice to each other.’ He seemed sorry for sending me back. I felt someone telling me to tell people to ‘stop worrying about their pending death because worrying takes life away.’ I was pushed and awakened by my wife telling me that I had a heart attack. While in the hospital, I saw a large man standing at the foot of my bed with his hands crossed and observing everything. I felt safe with him being there. While in the hospital, nurses and doctors threatened to call security to strap me down with leather straps because I was combative while resisting my treatments. They tied me down with cloth straps. After seeing this man at the foot of my bed, I stopped resisting.
