The Near Death Experiences of Daniel Wirz

Imagine a five-year-old boy in the early 1960s, splashing in a fish pond with his godparents, only to slip under the water, lungs burning as he screams for help that doesn't come. Inhaling water, he tumbles into a dark void, then floats free from his body. He ascends stone steps past grape arbors toward an blinding light. Forcing his eyes open, he beholds a radiant being emanating profound love—a male voice offering comfort he never knew. Rescued by a passing cyclist, he returns through a narrowing tunnel, the world blurring back into focus. This encounter imprints a sense of ultimate safety, though tragedy strikes later when his sister drowns in the same pond. Fast-forward to his thirties: a high-achieving judo champion and senior civil servant, poisoned by tainted canned fish. Racing to the hospital in socks, face blue and eyes bloodshot, fear grips him—not for himself, but his children. As vision tunnels darkly, revival comes swiftly with antidote, but terror lingers. Sleepless nights plague him; a parapsychologist's advice leads to invoking divine protection. Slipping into sleep, he plummets through fiery red whirlwinds into a stark room. There, a familiar, freckled, slight man at a desk—chest-high, with a cheerful smile—calmly reviews his life like a film reel: triumphs in sports fueled by pacts with cosmic forces, curses at work, all laid bare. Good moments flash too, echoing the childhood light, but guilt overwhelms. A closed gateway looms, symbolizing finality, snapping him awake in panic. Physical toll mounts—breathing halts in sleep, heart falters, senses distort—driving him to clinics and valerian-laced slumber. Yet spiritual searching begins: pastors, communities yield little until a dog-training acquaintance hints at understanding. Another apnea episode hurls him through darkness to a vast, shimmering golden curtain, behind which pulses comforting light. Three indistinct figures emerge: 'It's too soon, Daniel.' No fear, only enveloping love and security he yearns to join. These brushes with eternity upend his world. Ambition crumbles; sports, career, wealth lose meaning. He forfeits job, first marriage, estranges children temporarily, redirecting toward a men's home supervisory role. Friends drift, but some return post their own crises. A new, joyful wife enters his life—24 years strong. Now, he clings to afterlife hope, that boundless love awaiting beyond the curtain, transforming fear into purpose and isolation into quiet conviction.