There are also what Raymond Moody called “shared death experiences” in his new book Reflections on Life After Life. 

The shared-death experiences are similar to near-death experiences (disembodiment, autoscopic vision, mystical light, increased feeling of well-being, love and peace, etc.) for one detail: they are experienced by people in good health, physical and psychological, but manifested at the death of a relative. They stand near the body and feel transported elsewhere, like escaped from their own body, immersed in intense light and “participate” in peace and love at the leaving of a relative (or patient) after generally after viewing them alongside in the film of his life.

Here is how exposed Witnesses in Reflections on Life After Life the model narrative of human experience:

A woman I’ll call Jane has been sitting at the bedside of her husband of thirty years, who is dying of cancer. He is no longer conscious and his attending physician says that death could take place at any time.

She has been talking to him and holding his hand for several hours when she is aware of a charge of energy that seems to pass through her. The feeling startles her, and later she describes it as feeling almost like the static shock you’d get from walking across a rug and touching a doorknob. The feeling energizes her and frightens her at the same time, because she can tell that her husband has actually died. As she looks at her husband’s face, a white mist rises and dissipates into the air above him. She later describes this as looking like cigarette smoke or the cloud of carbon dioxide that comes off of dry ice.

Suddenly the room becomes brighter and fills with a white light that contains swirling particles that stay suspended like dust in a dust storm. Jane feels very light-headed and suddenly realizes that she has left her body and is floating above her husband’s hospital bed. She can see herself sitting next to his dead body, which now seems even stranger because she is also aware of him floating next to her. She looks at her husband and sees that he is smiling, which is in stark contrast to the dead man she sees below.

As the two hover together, scenes from their life spring up around them. They travel through their life in memory fragments, many of which have a panoramic quality to them; it’s as though she is surrounded by a movie of her own life. The scenes begin with their first joyous meeting and run all the way through the difficult and tender times they had as he went into his decline and eventual death. In the midst of these memory fragments are scenes that Jane is not a part of, scenes that were a part only of her husband’s life. She sees him struggling through boot camp and feels his pain as he falls from a rope that he had to climb as part of physical training. She sees him with girlfriends that he had before they met. She has a better understanding of her husband than ever before.

The couple begins to move toward the corner of the room, which is no longer a right angle. The entire room has changed shape and still seems to be in a state of flux, Jane notices. Perhaps this change is due to a tube that seems to be opening near the ceiling like a portal to elsewhere. Jane and her late husband enter it. She has the sense of moving very quickly up this tube, a sensation that lasts for a few seconds until she finds they have slowed down and are now emerging into a heavenly realm.

The landscape that surrounds Jane and her husband is stunning. She describes it later as being like a beautiful national park, except that the plants are glowing from inside, as if they each have their own internal source of light. Jane and her husband walk together down a path. As they approach a stream, Jane suddenly becomes aware that she can go no further. Although nothing is said, she has the feeling that the stream is a barrier beyond which she cannot go. She is happy for her husband because he is now pain-free and out of his mortal body. She says good-bye and in a flash is back in her earthly body, sitting in the hospital room next to her husband’s corporeal body.

Jane realizes that throughout much of the experience she had been hearing music with tones that she had never heard before. The music had been present from almost the very beginning, when she saw the mist rise from her husband’s body, but now it has suddenly stopped. She listens hard but can hear only silence. She looks down at her dead husband and doesn’t quite know how to feel. She thought she would be sad and depressed at his death, but now she feels strangely elated because she knows that his spirit has survived bodily death. Still she is stunned and puzzled and wants to know, “Did that really happen?” Page 74

More succinctly, Raymond Moody analyzes seven elements of this phenomenon:

• “The change in geometry”: the room seems to “mutate” into something else, it “stretches and collapses at the same time, [drawing as] an alternative geometry,” says a mathematician experiencer.

• “An immersion in a mystic light”: source of purity, love, peace.

• “A music and musical sounds”: accompanying the experience.

• “Decorporation” of the experiencer and the deceased.

• They may live together “the film of the past” of the deceased: “I stood in front of what looked like a large screen with my husband who had just died and we watched his life unfold before our eyes. Some of the things I saw, I had no idea until then.“

• “Discovery of a surreal landscape or Edenic”

• “The fog at the time of death”: it corresponds to a kind of white smoke escaping from the deceased body and sometimes takes a human form.

In his book Glimpses of Eternity, an investigation into shared death experiences, co-written with Paul Perry and published in 2010, Moody suggests that mirror neurons of the sympathetic system could hold the key to explaining the transmission mechanism of shared death experience. Mirror neurons play a role in social cognition, particularly in the affective processes such as empathy.

In the longer term, one frequently notes a development of empathy, questioning the priorities and changing lifestyle. Some Impacts on the conduct of life:

• “Their lives had deepened”

• “Reflect on philosophical problems”

• “I suddenly matured”

• “[Before] I was acting under the influence of pulses; Now … I think everything goes through my conscience “

• “I was more conscious of possessing a mind that before owning a body”

• “Since then, it is often pointed out to me that I was producing a calming effect on people,”

• “Almost all the testimonies emphasize the love of neighbor, unique and profound”

• “Moreover … the importance of seeking knowledge”

• “In no case has inspired them the idea of ​​instant salvation or moral infallibility.”

Generally, proven NDE cases are considered when a patient has undergone clinical death and was revived successfully. Their testimonies can then be compared to a NDE-scale built on the Rasch model, a simple mathematical approach used in the context of the theory of item responses to standardize and investigate objectively.

Kenneth Ring has notably built WCEI Index (Weighted core experience index) to measure the “quality” of NDE21 Bruce Greyson and (in) a scale of qualification testimonials. The WCEI index includes 10 items rated by their presence or absence, the scores from 1 to 5 identifying a superficial experience, 6 or more a basic experience and 10 a deep NDE. The questions in this questionnaire are:

• the subjective feeling of being dead;

• a sense of peace;

• the separation of the body;

• entry into a dark area;

• meet a presence or a voice;

• examine his own life;

• see or be wrapped in light;

• see beautiful colors;

• enter in the light;

• meeting of spirits.

The scale of Greyson is a revised version of the WCEI index. It is based on a survey constructed to obtain a numerical result to quantify the near-death experiences. The survey is divided into four categories (cognitive, affective, paranormal, and transcendental), it includes 16 items with an option of 3 responses for each item. A minimum score of 7 out of 32 is considered positive.

After listening attentively to the stories of patients, neuroscientists, in consultation with neuropsychologists, try to characterize his memoirs in order to highlight the potential share of invented stories, the opportunity to compare these memories with other subjective perceptions as the dreams or hallucinations.

Some meditation techniques could also cause feelings that some approach the NDE without reproducing the whole.

Many NDE appear after a critical event (eg when the patient hears that he is declared dead by the doctor or nurse), or when the person feels like being in a fatal condition (eg fair before a car accident). According to epidemiological studies, the NDE testimony would be more frequent in elderly patients under 60 years.

These near-death experiences, hallucinations or not, they always have a profound impact on the individual. Many psychologists have recognized this impact, without prejudice to the objective nature of the experiment described. Without necessarily seeking to discredit the NDE radical or religious interpretations, scientists are carefully confined to try to understand the biological mechanisms underlying. The British psychologist Susan Blackmore was distinguished by a detailed examination of the nonpartisan NDE stories, and a critical demanding of the most popular “theories”. It highlights the unacceptable defects of the past and proposes the outline of an interpretation that is typical traits of NDE mental manifestations of a brain placed in critical conditions (cerebral oxygenation failure, etc. ).

Translated from Wikipedia

Source: https://www.telework.ro/en/concept-shared-death-experiences-nde-scales/

By Kevin Williams

 One of the strangest type of near-death experiences (NDEs) involve people who are not near-death at all. However, because they are in close proximity to a dying loved one, they often experience a portion of their NDE. Such experiences are called "shared death experiences" (SDEs). While this type of phenomenon does not provide solid scientific evidence for the reality of out-of-body existence, they do provide excellent circumstantial evidence - especially if more than two people are involved. The following information comes from some of the top near-death researchers on the subject of SDEs.

 Dr. Raymond Moody's continuing research of NDEs, led him to a completely new phenomenon called the "shared death experience" which he documented in his book, Glimpses of Eternity: An Investigation Into Shared Death Experiences. This is a phenomenon where an NDE is actually shared by someone who is not dying, but who is emotionally connected or in close proximity to someone who is concurrently in the "life/death transition." These kind of NDEs attain a higher validity when it occurs where there is significant physical and/or social distance between the two individuals. At no time is there any indication that the experiencers is himself in any discernible medical distress. Typically, the experience accompanies an individual who is dying through sudden and unexpected means, the sense being that of rendering assistance to an otherwise confused individual. P.M.H. Atwater has this to say about shared:

"There are cases in which several experiencers seem to share in each other's episode; that is to say they have the same or similar elements, scenario type, or basic storyline. Usually these are encountered when two or three people are involved in the same accident at the same time or are in the same general section of the hospital at the same time. Sometimes these states are experienced singly (one individual is not aware of the other during the episode, but later learns that both apparently had the same scenario). Sometimes the people involved are aware of each other, and are able to confirm the extent of that awareness after they are able to compare their separate stories." (P.M.H. Atwater) 

The following experience is described by Dr. Melvin Morse in his excellent book entitled Parting Visions. Morse described this experience as "one of the most beautiful experiences of its kind that he has ever read.":

"Karl Skala was one of Germany's most noted poets. During World War II, he had an NDE. He and his best friend were huddled together in a foxhole during an artillery bombardment. The shells hit closer and closer until one finally hit close to Skala's friend and killed him. Karl felt his friend slump forward into his arms and go limp with death. Then a strange thing happened to Skala. He states that he felt himself being drawn up with his friend, above their bodies and then above the battlefield. Skala could look down and see himself holding his friend. Then he looked up and saw a bright light and felt himself going toward it with his friend. Then he stopped and returned to his body. He was uninjured except for a hearing loss that resulted from the artillery blast." (Dr. Melvin Morse, Parting Visions, page 45-46)

In the Summer, 1996, edition of the Journal of Possible Paradigms, Issue 4, an unusual shared NDE is described by a woman named Sussanna Uballe. Here she describes what happened:

"The experience of co-experiencing death is, I feel, much like an NDE. I did not have a near death experience, but did travel part way up the tunnel with my husband as he left this dimension.

"On Memorial day (observed), May 27, 1979, I was five months pregnant with my son, Christopher. My husband and I rode bicycles and ran errands around town, and it was a very hot day for Minneapolis. I lay down after dinner and was so exhausted that I could barely move. As my husband went to the corner store about 8:00 to buy something for his lunch the next day, I fell into a very deep sleep.

"I dreamt that I was walking with my husband, Herb, up a dark and shady forest path. It was a heavily wooded path, which was enclosed by a thick canopy of trees overhead. The path was slightly inclined, and at the crest of a hill I saw the sky, somewhat like the light at the end of a tunnel. Herb and I had been in deep conversation, about what I could not tell, but I suppose we were reminiscing about our relationship. I felt our very closeness and felt totally in love.

"He began to tell me about what it was like to die; at first filled with rage, pain, and frustration, and upset that the clerk didn't seem to understand his pleas to call an ambulance, that he had been stabbed in the heart and needed help. He said that after a short while, which felt interminable while he was experiencing it, he left his body and floated above it and saw the body below him, and felt detached from it, like it was just a body. He was filled with peace and love. And he felt no pain.

"After telling me this, he then said that he had to go. His feet started to move very fast, and he began to leave me behind on the path. I told him that I could do that too, and put some effort into "powering up" my feet to make them go super fast. I actually started to rev up and move along the path quickly, and felt as if I was traveling up a tunnel of forest toward the sunlight at the top of the hill. As I began to keep pace with him he said "NO!" in a very powerful voice, and I woke up in my bed, feeling hurt at being told no.

"I looked for him, to tell him about my dream. He wasn't there, and his side of the bed showed that he had not slept in the bed that night. It was dawn. I began to get irritated, thinking that he must have gone off with some friends, and feeling upset at how irresponsible he was behaving. I went to where we kept our bicycles, to see if his was there, and it wasn't. I was so angry that I broke the bicycle lock and chain off of my bicycle with my bare hands, (he had taken both keys with him), and set off down the street toward the corner store. His bicycle was near the store, and a patrolman was standing next to it. I asked him where my husband was, and why his bicycle was sitting there. He asked my name and address, and refused to tell me anything more. He suggested that I go back home, and that someone would explain everything to me later. In about fifteen minutes a police officer and a clergyman came by and told me that Herb had been killed the night before.

"The dream braced me for this news, and although I was in shock, I felt assured constantly that he was not in his body, and a comforting presence was with me throughout the next few days of viewing the body, the funeral and other unpleasant business. 

"Two days after the funeral, I was preparing for bed and contemplating suicide to join Herb, so that we could be together on the other side or in our next phase of incarnation or whatever. I consciously thought a question, "Should I kill myself to join Herb, or stay here."

"I then went to bed. I was just falling asleep when I felt a presence by my right side, and looked to see Herb, naked and glowing with a soft, beautiful white light. He looked beautiful and I felt filled with love and happiness to see him. He spoke mentally to me, and said, "This is our son," indicating my womb, "Take good care of him." I had no question then about my purpose, and have tried to do the best possible job taking care of my son ever since. It did not at all seem strange that he used the word "son", and, of course, although these were the days before ultrasound, I did give birth to a boy."

(Sussanna Uballe)

The following the shared death experience of a person who wishes to remain anonymous.

"Here is my story of an NDE I had on Thanksgiving evening at my apartment. At that time (around 1991 and 1992), I had a friend who was diagnosed as terminally ill from AIDS complications. Six months before, the doctor told him he had three months to live. So, basically he was on borrowed time. In the early 90s, there was no medication for advanced HIV or AIDS. Once you got sick, you basically died.

 "I was not planning on preparing a huge Thanksgiving dinner that evening. But, for some reason, I woke up and called all the people in my address book. I left messages on their phone machines and said that anyone who had no place to go for Thanksgiving could come to my apartment.

 "I began cooking shortly after that. I cooked all day and fed people as they strolled in. Then, around 11 p.m. that night, Phillip showed up. He was the guy who was terminally ill. He told me he had nowhere to go that evening and was thankful I had called him.

"All the guests for the day had gone, so Phillip and I began to eat together. I had not eaten all day because of the several people that came over and my entertaining them. So, I was quite hungry and tired.

"At this point, Phillip explained how six months ago, he had three months to live. He decided he would try to make it to Thanksgiving and then finally let go.

"So there we were and we were laughing and joking about how he would die after eating dinner. He'd already lived three months longer than he was supposed to and he was quite accepting of the whole situation. He was no longer afraid. He told me that his liver was so weak, at that point, that really he wouldn't be able to eat all the rich salty and sugary foods on the table. If he did, he probably would actually die. But, that would be OK. At least he made it to Thanksgiving and would die happy knowing he had a place to go and a friend who cared for him. So he decided he would eat the dinner - everything - and if he died, then it was God's will.

"Well, he began eating and the food made both of us really high from the tryptophan in the turkey. Especially because both of us did not eat all day long and we were making all these jokes about dying. Then he actually started to fade away in front of me. He turned pure white grayish and slumped over. I thought, 'Oh my God! He really is dying.'

"Then I saw this incredible white spinning light appear on his left shoulder as he was falling over toward me in his chair. I thought, "My God! I can see his soul leaving his body! Maybe it was an angel who had come for him!"

"In any event, the light was so beautiful and lovely, that I stood up without thinking and thought, 'Take me! I'll go and he can stay!' I so desperately wanted to go into that light and be with it. Suddenly, I was having an NDE with Phillip in a space that I can only describe as heaven. It was simply a pure whiteness of light just like in the movies. No visuals at all. Just white light everywhere.

"Then, I was back in my body. Phillip sat straight up and was back in his body. He was muttering that he guessed he just couldn't die. 

"Then next day, when I awoke, I felt two powerful presences. It was like four pairs of hands on my shoulders: two on each side holding me in my body. I felt two very powerful angels or spirits behind me just resting their 'hands' on my back and shoulders and grounding me back into this reality. I cried, even sobbed, that I had come back here. I was actually depressed for some time. I was thinking how wonderful death was and how awful it was to come back.

"Phillip lived many years after this, I might add. Then we lost touch, so I can't say if he is still around or not."

The following account comes from Dr. Joan Borysenko, a psychologist and author, who had an interesting experience with her son when her mother lay dying. She and her son had a shared death experience with Dr. Borysenko's dying mother. Their experience was profiled in Eliot Jay Rosen's documentary entitled, Conscious Dying: Preparing Now For A Healing Passage. The following is the experience in Dr. Borysenko's own words:

"It was about three in the morning at the time of her passing and we said 'goodbye' to each other for the last time at about midnight and then she'd gone to sleep. And my son, Justin, who was about twenty at that time, and I, were sitting with her. We were on opposite sides of her bed. I was having a quiet time. I was just praying, meditating, and my eyes were closed. All of a sudden, I had a very vivid vision. I opened my eyes after this vision and the whole room seemed to be made out of light. I know that might be hard to understand, but it was like everything was made of particles of light: my mother and the bed and the ceiling. Everything was so beautiful. I looked across the bed and I saw my son Justin. And Justin was weeping. Tears were just streaming down his face and he had this wonderful, soft look, this look of awe on his face.

"And he said to me, 'Mom, the room is filled with light. Can you see it?'

"And, boy, I said, 'Yeah, I see it. I see the light.'

"And he said, 'It's Grandma. Grandma is holding open the door to eternity for us, so that we can catch a glimpse.'

"And then he went on, he looked at me with so much love and he said, 'You know, Grandma was a very great soul. She came to this world and she took a role. She took a part much smaller than the wisdom in her soul, so that you can have something to push against; you can have something to resist and become fully who you are.'"

(Dr. Joan Borysenko)

...Finally, the fourth new phenomenon, and one that seems especially rare: in this case, individuals with the dying person somehow mentally join him or her in the preliminary journey to the next world. Scott M. Taylor, Ed. D, President and Executive Director of the Monroe Institute, was kind enough to provide a written account of the near-death experience he shared with someone he loved.

Before I quote Scott’s description, there is the sad background for this remarkable experience. Mary Fran and her boy Nolan were both killed in a car crash, Mary Fran instantly and Nolan several days later in a hospital, surrounded by two anxious families, along with Scott. There came a moment when the boy died, causing the hearts of all to sink—except Scott.

I lost control. The car rolled, windows exploding, gravel flying, as we spun over and over until I lost consciousness. I woke only for a second after we stopped. I felt horrible pain and heard Spencer crying in the backseat. Everything went black again. I was terrified. Where is my family? Are they safe?

Then, suddenly, I was calm. The pain was gone. I looked around. I was floating above our car accident. Before I could react, I felt a presence near me. It was Tamara. We were encircled in a bubble of light that was emanating complete peace. I knew then she was gone, but it was as if my grief were suspended. All I could feel was serenity. I wondered if we were on our way to heaven.

Tamara looked at me, her face serious. “Jeff, you cannot be here,” she said. “You have to go back.” How could I? She was here. Then I remembered Spencer’s cries. He was still alive. He needed me. I knew I had to make a choice. I pulled Tamara close to me. “Goodbye,” I said. I let go. Then I felt myself drifting away from Tamara and the comforting light…

DR. JEFF O’DRISCOLL: I’d just finished my rounds in the emergency room when I heard about a patient being brought in. Car accident. The older son had minor injuries. The father had serious injuries and needed surgery. The mother and toddler hadn’t made it. That’s when Rachel, an ER nurse, grabbed my arm.

“Come see this,” she said. “His wife is…here.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Rachel and I had discovered that we had something in common. After we’d known each other for a couple months, Rachel confided that sometimes she saw or heard things she couldn’t explain. Things that didn’t make any logical sense, that showed a divine hand at work—and I revealed that I did too.

I was used to keeping these experiences to myself, out of concern that my colleagues might question my credibility. But Rachel was a confidante with whom I could discuss some of the miracles we witnessed.

For me, these encounters began long before I became a medical professional. The first time it happened, I was 16. I was a rebellious kid. I was out with a few friends one night, driving too fast down narrow country roads. As we approached a sharp turn, I heard a clear voice in my head. “You need to slow down.” I braked just as another car came around the bend. We collided, but because I’d slowed down, no one was injured. Afterward I knew whose voice I’d heard. The one person I would listen to—my older brother. Stan had died five years before in a farming accident, but I’d recognize his voice anywhere.

Since then, I’ve had more of these experiences. They’d helped me as an ER doctor a few times. Like the time a man came in from a motorcycle accident with minor injuries. We were about to release him, but something told me he needed a CT scan. There was no medical explanation for it, but the feeling was so strong that I finally ordered one. The scan showed bleeding in his brain. My mysterious hunch—or something more—likely saved his life.

I’d gotten used to these moments and when I needed to listen to them. The man in the car accident wasn’t my patient. Other doctors were already working on him. But I knew when Rachel came to get me that I should go.

OLSEN: Suddenly, I was in a hospital. I was not yet back in my body—I was still weightless, without pain. I moved freely through the halls, observing the people around me. Somehow, I was able to see their whole lives as I looked at them. Their stories, their fears, their experiences. I felt no judgment toward any of them. I was filled with the most incredible love and oneness with each of them.

I finally reached a room and a body to which I felt no connection. The patient was in terrible shape, and doctors were rushing around him. His legs were crushed, his ab-domen a mess, his right arm had nearly been torn off. Wait, I thought. Is that me? I recognized my own face now. I was horrified. I couldn’t go back to that! Then I remembered what Tamara had said. I thought of Spencer. I couldn’t leave him alone.

I let go and chose to move toward the gurney. The heaviness was the first thing I noticed, then came the horrific pain. But the worst part was the guilt. It hit me like a tidal wave. Tamara and Griffin were gone. Even as I sensed the doctors over me, working furiously to save my life, the only thing I could think was: This was my fault.

O’DRISCOLL: Rachel and I stood in the doorway. The room was loud. A team of doctors worked to stabilize the patient. As I watched, the sounds around me faded out. I couldn’t even hear Rachel speaking next to me. I sensed a divine presence in the room. And then I noticed a light. In it was the form of a woman, floating above the patient’s bed. She had flowing, curly blonde hair and was dressed in various shades of white. Her form was almost transparent, and the look on her face was serene. She looked vibrant, otherworldly—I knew innately that this was the man’s wife. The divine presence in the room was allowing me to view her eternal soul.

She smiled at me, as if she’d known me forever. I sensed her immense gratitude toward the doctors who were working to save her husband. She looked directly at me and back at her husband, then back at me. Her eyes were intent.

Then everything slowly returned to normal. I could hear the doctors speaking, and I could hear Rachel again. “Did you see her too?” she asked. I looked again. The patient’s wife was gone. The trauma surgeon took the man to surgery.

When it was all over, I told Rachel what I’d seen but, other than that, kept quiet. I hoped the man would recover and be reunited with his son. I didn’t realize then that it wouldn’t be the end of our story.

OLSEN: After a few months and 18 surgeries, I finally moved to the rehab wing. One night, just days before my release, I fell into a deep sleep and had a dream that was more powerful than any I’d ever had. I was standing in a big field. The serenity I’d felt in the bubble of light on the day of the accident returned. My body was healed, and I could walk freely. I felt light and started running. I noticed a corridor appear on my left. I entered and followed it to the end. I found Griffin there, asleep in his crib. He looked perfect. Tears filled my eyes as I picked him up and held him close. I could feel his breath on my neck as I rocked him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself, I thought.

Then I felt a divine presence behind me. It exuded pure love. It felt like the love I’d experienced for the people in the hospital the day of the accident, free of judgment. I now understood that I’d been shown a glimpse of the kind of complete love that God had for me. I felt two arms wrap around Griffin and me, enveloping us. A reassuring voice said, “There’s nothing to forgive.”

O’DRISCOLL: Rachel eventually encouraged me to share what I’d seen with this patient. I was reluctant—I’d never told patients what I’d seen before—but ultimately agreed.

As we entered his room, I saw his leg had been amputated, and I knew he was still fighting a serious infection. On top of that, he seemed emotionally exhausted.

I let Rachel do most of the talking. She told him everything. My experiencing a divine presence, then seeing his wife floating above him in the room, her appearance, her feeling of gratitude toward the doctors. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“That sounds just like Tamara,” he said. “Thank you for telling me this. I had my own experience on the day of the accident.”

I listened as he described having an incredible out-of-body experience. As he spoke, I started to get an intense feeling that we’d been brought together and that we were meant to stay in touch. I wrote down my name and cell phone number to give to this man.

“If you ever need to talk to someone, please reach out,” I said. “I’m Jeff O’Driscoll.”

“Jeff Olsen,” he replied, shaking my hand.

OLSEN: After I was released from the hospital, I stayed at my brother’s house to continue my recovery. I didn’t forget the remarkable experience I’d had while in the rehab wing, but I felt that no matter what that divine voice had said, I’d done something that was unforgivable. The way I saw it, I had destroyed the lives of everyone in my family. Didn’t I deserve to carry this burden?

One afternoon, I got a call. It was Dr. Jeff O’Driscoll, the man who had visited me while I was in the rehab wing. I hadn’t heard from him in some time, and I hadn’t reached out to him; I’d been too overwhelmed. He told me he wanted to stop by and see how I was doing. Touched, I accepted.

As soon as Jeff walked in the door, I felt at ease. I knew I could trust him because we’d both been part of the same strange divine experience. We began talking. I shared the dream I’d had with him, and he listened quietly. I’d been keeping everything I’d encountered to myself, and it was such a relief to have someone to talk to.

When I got to the part where I mentioned the voice telling me there was nothing to forgive, Jeff stopped me.

“Jeff,” he said. “That voice? You need to find a way to listen to it.”

O’DRISCOLL: Since that day, Jeff Olsen and I have become friends. There were certain times during his recovery that I felt a nudge to reach out to him and did. It wasn’t until years later that he told me how important these moments were.

OLSEN: Months after the accident, I was faced with the daunting task of unpacking our suitcases from the accident. They had been sitting untouched after being removed from our car.

I didn’t think I could bear seeing Tamara’s things, unfolding all of Griffin’s clothes. I couldn’t talk to my family about stuff like this. They already treated me as if I were fragile. Plus, it felt unfair to unload my troubles on people who’d also lost Tamara and Griffin. Just then, the phone rang. It was Jeff. “Hey,” he said. “I just wanted to check and make sure you were doing okay.” I told him what I was doing, and Jeff stayed on the phone with me, talking me through the barrage of emotions that was hitting me.

Eventually, I went back to work. I was still struggling to reconcile with myself. Some days were worse than others. Driving home from the office one evening, I felt myself slipping deeper into depression. I hate to admit this, but I thought of ending it all. Going back to that painless place I’d visited, being with Tamara and Griffin. But when I pulled up to the house, I saw a book sitting on the porch. It was from Dr. Jeff . He’d written a note saying he thought I’d like it and wanted me to read it. That book felt like a lifeline. It gave me another reason to stick around.

Jeff continued to reach out. He always seemed to show up right when I was at my lowest points, a reminder that I was not alone. Each time, it seemed to confirm that we shared a divine connection.

In the years since, Jeff has helped me make sense of what I couldn’t explain. Talking through my experience with him helped me recover and grieve—eventually I did forgive myself. As time passed, it became clearer and clearer that we’d been brought together for a reason.

O’DRISCOLL: Jeff and I have stayed close. We meet up often to talk about our lives and discuss what we’ve experienced. My friendship with Jeff helped me realize that I should share my stories, because they can help show others the hidden hand at work in our lives.

Twenty years after the accident, Jeff was preparing to move out of town. One evening, I was in my house getting ready for bed when I felt God’s presence, followed by a voice. I recognized it as Tamara’s voice, though I’d never heard her speak. “Don’t lose touch with him, Jeff ,” she said. “Don’t let anything interfere with your friendship.” Another message from heaven, reminding Jeff and me of the profound connection we share.

Source: https://guideposts.org/angels-and-miracles/life-after-death/their-shared-near-death-experience-formed-an-unbreakable-bond/

In 1989 my father was losing his 8-year battle with colon cancer. As I lay next to him, along with my step mother in the king-sized bed, I felt a strong need to close my eyes. It was nearly 1 am and had been a long couple of days watching him deteriorate. Just as I had relaxed for the first time, my stepmother touched me and said he’s gone. It truly felt like he had waited to leave when I wasn’t paying such close attention to him. What happened next is difficult to describe.

I felt as if he was taking my soul with him. I stood up quickly, staring into the upper part of the room toward the ceiling. At the same time the upper center of my chest felt a pulling hard to describe. It felt like there was some flexibility to the area of my chest, like it was stretchy. He pulled my soul? To the very point that it was about to be pulled from my body. It felt as if he recognized after a few moments that I wasn’t able to go with him and he released me. With a thud I was released and all was nearly back to normal. Of course, I was shaken and talking silently to myself, “What the hell was THAT?!” All I knew from that moment on is I was NEVER afraid of death and something funny is going on here in this world. 

I could not walk properly. It felt as if I had bed pillows on each foot so each step was taking a lot of effort. It did feel soft like walking a few inches above the ground or on marshmallows or bed pillows, but a bit clumsy. 

I also recall being exposed to what I believe to be a life review. I was not part of the review, just as an onlooker. I do not recall exactly how I knew about life review. I can only tell you in a conversation with my mother years later I vehemently defended the fact that when we die there is a holographic screen we each review our lives on. Of course, she was unaware of my experience. I had not found IANDS yet nor did I know the experience was called a Shared Death Experience (SDE). I had not told a soul about my experience and my mother and I were super open and close too! It just sounded stupid to bring it up in my mind. No one would be able to relate, is what I thought.  She had her own version of death she provided me from a biblical perspective. I was so frustrated with her. Poor woman had no idea what I was defending. 

In 2001 my mother died suddenly. She had called me at 6 am one Sunday morning trying to tell me she was not well. Because of some prior issues she had walking where I suspected a blood clot in her leg, I immediately told her to call 911. I called her back to make sure she got through and told her I would meet her at the hospital. 

On the way to the hospital I just knew this wasn't going to be good, just a gut feeling. I had a 20-minute drive and a red light caught me with no turn on red. I contemplated running the light but I was so spacey with fear I just sat wondering if she was okay.

Suddenly her voice came across to me telling me a thought I had had months prior. It wasn’t her audible voice but in a way it was. Again, this is hard to describe. It possessed her voice the way it sounded and it was clearly her, but not audible. I want to say it was telepathic, but it was her voice. I know it’s confusing but difficult to put into words. Anyway, I knew from this communication that she had died. I knew somehow she was able to see my thoughts from months prior which only meant she couldn’t have survived. Of course, she didn’t.

When I got to the hospital I was so upset because they weren’t telling me she died. I knew she did and the standard lengthy “we did all we could” speech only lengthened the inevitable hearing them verbally confirm her passing.

I had bid on a house the night prior to her death. When we went to move in, on top of the refrigerator was one of her belongings. Such a mystery how it got there. 

I had those word magnets that could be put together as sentences on my refrigerator. As I was hanging memories of my mom on my refrigerator with those magnets, randomly I grabbed two of them from the side of the refrigerator and they spelled out what she used to call my daughter, “Little girl.” It took my breath away. I believe once open to any type of experience in death, the universe opens all kinds of stuff to be processed or to confirm we don’t die. 

It would be 20 years almost to the day when I sat in a doctor’s office, waiting on a person to come out, that I read a Reader’s Digest article that mirrored my original experience I had with my dad. In that article, the woman may have referenced the term “shared death.” I can’t recall honestly. All I can tell you is from that day forward I began dancing in the streets! (metaphorically)

Eventually, I found a copy of Raymond Moody’s book and began a very focused intense search for the meaning of life. This news article in Readers Digest proved I wasn’t as crazy as everyone believed me to be, even before uttering a word of my SDE. (I think I may have always been blindly aware of spirit, if that makes any sense. And I was often considered different. I say I’m artistic.)

From that moment I was free!!! Of course, then I learned of IANDS. Unfortunately, the only local chapter was in Cincinnati and I now lived in Dayton about an hour away. I did eventually have the relief of telling my story in detail back around 2014 in Cincinnati. Thank you to those sweet IANDS members that watched me cry and supported me fully. 

A series of strange things happened after the 2009 sighting of this Reader’s Digest Shared Death Experience article. 

I was trying to help a friend with alcoholism and bought books on recovery for her. Of course I was the only one that would read them. When I did however, it provided information on meditation and maybe even like that helpers exist to help us if we reach out to them. I sat in meditation with some really great music and a beautiful guided voice just from a YouTube meditation on spirit guides. It would have been like my 3rd or 4th attempt to meditate and reach out to the universe to gain further understanding of what happened to me at my dad’s crossing over, my mom speaking to me, and the nature of reality. 

With determined intention to reach these “helpers,” I WAS ENVELOPED IN GOD’S LOVE AND LIGHT THRU THIS MEDITATION! The message to me was: you are loved! The feeling of it is what is so difficult to describe! I had tears streaming down my face and was still in deep surrender of meditation.

This all came in handy when I would desperately need it a year or so later. Life has been funny like that, each thing building on the next.

One of the first things that happened was that I was scolded by a dead person. Listen, I know this is all hard to believe, but I swear on my grandchild’s life that a grayish mist appeared in an upstairs bathroom at the ceiling level, when the alcoholic girl and I were bantering in fun (is what I thought). Her dead mother did not think that! Her scary statement to me, and I swear she seemed like she screamed it, was, “ENOUGH!!!!”  Just one word that scared the bejesus out of me and I flew downstairs. I don’t think I ever bantered with her daughter again. 

This same girl would play a very significant role in my growth, but that’s another whole story. 

So, I believe all the prior experiences kept me alive after a very rough time to come. I was about to find a way out through suicide when the single word “FIGHT” was also relayed to me as the two prior communications were. It shook me to my core, but at the same time made me even more curious. 

I know life is synchronistic. We cross paths with people that will further our growth. Nothing is as it seems. Lately life has been a lot less calm and no insights or communication from anyone, which seems a bit boring. ;) 

I always try to ask spirit source God or my guides to let me cheat a little, give me some clues, but I feel like they are saying listen we gave you more than we agreed. So, I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other until something more comes along.  

I thank you, IANDS!!!! You’ve been a huge part of my feeling semi-normal. I cannot express what your existence has meant to me. I write this to you in hopes others will come forward with similar cracks in their realities. It’s always nice to know someone with similar experiences. I wish I knew the answer to wealth. I would donate to make sure you always exist. Thank you!

Source: https://iands.org/ndes/nde-stories/nde-like-accounts/1435-woman-s-shared-death-experience-and-path-to-awakening.html

Some people not only share their life but their moment of death with loved ones. Are these 'shared-death experiences' real or a mirage?

William Peters was working as a volunteer in a hospice when he had a strange encounter with a dying man that changed his life. The man’s name was Ron, and he was a former Merchant Marine who was afflicted with stomach cancer. Peters says he would spend up to three hours a day at Ron’s bedside, talking to and reading adventure stories to him because few family or friends visited. When Peters plopped by Ron’s beside around lunch one day, the frail man was semi-conscious. Peters read passages from Jack London’s “Call of the Wild” as the frail man struggled to hang on. What happened next, Peters says, was inexplicable.

Peters says he felt a force jerk his spirit upward, out of his body. He floated above Ron’s bedside, looking down at the dying man. Then he glanced next to him to discover Ron floating alongside him, looking at the same scene below. “He looked at me and he gave me this happy, contented look as if he was telling me, ‘Check this out. Here we are,’ ’’ Peters says. Peters says he then felt his spirit drop into his body again. The experience was over in a flash. Ron died soon afterward, but Peters’ questions about that day lingered. He didn’t know what to call that moment but he eventually learned that it wasn’t unique. Peters had a “shared-death experience.”

Most of us have heard of near-death experiences. The stories of people who died and returned to life with tales of floating through a tunnel to a distant light have become a part of popular culture. Yet there is another category of near-death experiences that are, in some ways, even more puzzling.

Stories about shared-death experiences have been circulating since the late 19th century, say those who study the phenomenon. The twist in shared-death stories is that it’s not just the people at the edge of death that get a glimpse of the afterlife. Those near them, either physically or emotionally, also experience the sensations of dying.

These shared-death accounts come from assorted sources: soldiers watching comrades die on the battlefield, hospice nurses, people holding death vigils at the bedside of their loved ones. All tell similar stories with the same message: People don’t die alone. Some somehow find a way to share their passage to the other side.

Raymond Moody coined the concept, "shared-death experiences" after spending over 20 years collecting stories about the afterlife. Raymond Moody introduced the concept of the shared-death experience in his 2009 book “Glimpses of Eternity.” He first started collecting stories of people who died and returned to life while he was in medical school. Skeptics have dismissed tales of the afterlife as hallucinations triggered by anesthesia or “anoxia,” a loss of oxygen to the brain that some people experience when they’re near death. But Moody says you can’t explain away shared-death experiences by citing anoxia or anesthesia. “We don’t have that option in shared-death experiences because the bystanders aren’t ill or injured, and yet they experience the same kind of things,” Moody says. Skeptics, though, say people reporting shared-death experiences are not impartial observers. Their perceptions are distorted by grief. Joe Nickell, a noted investigator into the paranormal, says people who’ve watched others die sometimes experience their own form of trauma. They don’t intend to, but some reinvent the moment of their loss to make it more acceptable.

“If you’re having a death vigil and your loved one dies, wouldn’t it be great to have a great story to tell that would make everyone happy and tell them that ‘Uncle John’ went to heaven, and I saw his soul leave and I saw him smile,” says Nickell, who is also an investigative writer for the journal Skeptical Inquirer, which offers scientific evaluations of extraordinary claims.

Nickell says shared-death experiences are not proof of an afterlife, but of a psychological truism. “If you’re looking for something hard enough you’ll find it,” Nickell says. “This is well known to any psychologist or psychiatrist.”

Symptoms of a near-death experience

The term shared-death experience may be new, but it went by different names centuries ago. The Society for Psychical Research in London documented shared-death experiences in the late 1800s, dubbing them “death-bed visions” or “death-bed coincidences,” researchers say.

Bidding farewell from beyond the grave?

One of the first shared-death experiences to gain attention came during World War I from Karl Skala, a German poet. Skala was a soldier huddled in a foxhole with his best friend when an artillery shell exploded, killing his comrade. He felt his friend slump into his arms and die, according to one early book on shared-death experiences. In the book, “Parting Visions,” the author Melvin Morse described what happened next to Skala, who had somehow escaped injury:

“He felt himself being drawn up with his friend, above their bodies and then above the battlefield. Skala could look down and see himself holding his friend. Then he looked up and saw a bright light and felt himself going toward it with his friend. Then he stopped and returned to his body. He was uninjured except for a hearing loss that resulted from the artillery blast."

Moody, who coined the term shared-death experience, has arguably done more than any contemporary figure to rekindle secular interest in the afterlife. He’s been dubbed “the father of near-death experiences.“ He introduced the concept of the near-death experience in his popular 1975 book “Life after Life.”

He says he kept hearing stories about shared-death experiences during his research for “Life after Life.” A genial, chatty man, Moody says he revealed these stories in books and lectures but shared-death experiences don’t get the attention that near-death experiences get because they are more disturbing.

Few people want to think about what it’s like to die; a shared-death experience forces them to do so, he says. “[Sigmund] Freud made the statement that we can’t imagine our own deaths,” Moody says. “In the case of a near-death experience, that happens to someone else. That is somehow more comfortable to think about.”

Proof of heaven popular, except with the church

He says people who claim to have a shared-death experience tell similar stories. They recount the sensation of their consciousness being pulled upward out of their body, seeing beings of light, co-living a life review of the dying person, and seeing dead relatives of the dying person. Some health care workers at the bedside of dying patients report seeing a light exit from the top of a person’s body at the moment of death and other surreal effects, Moody says. “They say it’s like the room changes dimensions. It’s like a port opens up to some other framework of reality.”

Penny Sartori, who was a nurse for 21 years, says she had a deathbed vision that left her shaken. One night, she was preparing to give a bath to a dying patient who was hooked up to a ventilator and other life-prolonging equipment. She says she touched the man’s bed, and “everything around us stopped.” She says her surroundings disappeared and “it was almost like I swapped places with him.” She says she could suddenly understand everything the man was going through, including feeling his pain. He couldn’t talk but she says she could somehow hear him convey a heart-wrenching message: “Leave me alone. Let me die in peace…just let me die.” 

That shared-death experience spurred her to conduct a five-year investigation into such stories and publish them in her book “The Wisdom of Near-Death Experiences.” But even before that experience, she says she and other hospital workers had other eerie portents that a patient was about to die. There would be a sudden drop in temperature at the bedside of a dying patient, or a light would surround the body just before death, she says. “It’s very common for a clock to stop at the moment of death,” Sartori says. “I’ve seen light bulbs flicker or blow at the moment of death.”

A mother says goodbye?

One of the oddest shared-death experiences comes from a woman who says she felt the death throes of her mother even though she was thousands of miles away.

Annie Cap was born in the United States but eventually moved to England where she worked for a telecommunications company. On the day after Christmas in 2004, she says her mother, Betty, suddenly fell ill at her home in Portland, Oregon. She was hospitalized and over the next few days all of her major organs began to shut down. Cap, however, says she didn’t know her mother was dying. Yet in a strange way she says she did.

Cap learned that her mother was ill but says she couldn’t get a flight during the holiday season so all she could do was wait. She was in her London office with a client one day when she started to gag, struggling to breathe. She was mystified because she says she was in good health. She struggled for air for about 25 minutes, and with a growing sense of dread regarding her mother.

“I felt and heard this strange gurgling in my throat,” she says. “I started coughing and gagging. And I had this deep, growing sadness. I quickly rescheduled my client and once they had left, I ran as fast as I could to my house and called my mom’s hospital room.”

That’s when she learned that her mother was gasping for air, on the verge of death, Cap says. While Cap was on the phone, she says, her mother died. She’s convinced that she somehow shared her mother’s death throes, but she kept denying it because she was an agnostic at the time who didn’t believe in the afterlife. Now she says she does. Today Cap is a therapist in London, and the author of, “Beyond Goodbye: An Extraordinary True Story of a Shared Death Experience.” “It wasn’t a blissful experience,” she says of that day after Christmas. “I was suffocating.”

Skeptics question the claims

However dramatic shared-death experiences may be, they offer no more proof of an afterlife than near-death experiences, skeptics say. Sean Carroll is a physicist who has participated in public debates about the afterlife with Moody and Eben Alexander, a neurosurgeon and author of The New York Times best-seller “Proof of Heaven.”

Life after death is dramatically incompatible with everything we know about modern science, says Carroll, author of “The Particle at the End of the Universe.” He says people who claim that a soul persists after death would have to answer other questions: What particles make up the soul, what holds them together, and how does it interact with ordinary matter?

In an essay entitled “Physics and the Immortality of the Soul,” Carroll says the only evidence of afterlife experiences is “a few legends and sketchy claims from unreliable witnesses … plus a bucket load of wishful thinking.”

“We are made of atoms,” he says. “When you die, it’s like a candle being put out or turning off a laptop. There’s no substance that leaves the body. That’s a process that stops. That’s how the laws of physics describe life.”

Nickell, the paranormal skeptic, says stories of shared-death experiences also rest on a flimsy foundation. “That’s the problem with all of them – they’re all anecdotal evidence and science doesn’t deal with anecdotal evidence,” Nickell says. Peters, the former hospice worker who says he had such an experience, is convinced they’re real. His encounter altered the course of his life. He eventually founded the Shared Crossing Project, a group based in Santa Barbara, California, which offers counseling, research and classes to educate people about afterlife experiences. When asked if he could have imagined his experience with Ron, the merchant seaman, Peters says “absolutely not.”

This video illustrates a rare and wondrous occurrence: a shared NDE. Come along now and listen to Scott Taylor describe his shared experience of death when his nephew dies. It is just another example of how mystical and magical life is; and how life-altering it is to discover that death is just another step along life’s path.