Rich Dixon tells us more of his story:
A new year.
As the Broncos marched to the Super Bowl, my Christmas infection turned nasty. In dangerous environment of sedentary existence and constrained, shallow breathing which didn’t efficiently clear my lungs, I developed severe pneumonia.
I lapsed into a kind of semi-coma.
+ + +
I opened my eyes. Total stillness, none of the now-familiar hospital noises. Darkness obscured my surroundings. I felt like I floated in a dark void. Didn’t try to move or speak, just rested in peaceful silence.
Completely still. No fear. A palpable peace had settled around me. I closed my eyes for a moment…or maybe for a long time.
Eyes open again, the same calm, serene blackness. Someone stood beside me, a vague shadow, a presence felt more than seen. A faint outline, head bowed. I could sense the man was praying. Eyes closed again…for a moment or a lifetime.
He’s still there, immersed in prayer. A motionless silhouette, surroundings so calm I can almost hear his thoughts. Peaceful, quiet.
Quiet, contented. Restful, somehow just as it was supposed to be, certain there was no need to know his identity. Just right to be here, to just be in the tranquility and peace. I was exactly where I belonged. I was safe, as though Love had come alive, wrapped its arms around me, and held me securely in this place of peacefulness.
It’s Jesus! Jesus is standing beside me. This must be Heaven, this space of perfect peace and calm. I’ve died. I’m in Heaven. Jesus is beside me, praying over me. No fear, no questions, just tranquility and calm. No emotions—not excitement, not wonder, not sadness. Everything here is just serenity; it’s all just as it’s supposed to be.
Quiet. Safe. No more pain, no more fear. I took a deep breath, smiled and closed my eyes.
To be continued…
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