Normally, I would say, “no way. Do not write about NDE’s in fiction under any conditions.”
However, I’ve searched my main character’s past and believe there are sufficient grounds for introducing one in his background following a near fatal accident the character had in his early twenties. The central character is a tough guy, a former amateur rugby player, and somehow I feel that the experience will deepen his character.
NDE’s (Near-Death Experiences) can occur in a number of settings, often when a person comes close to death or when astronauts are training. In some instances, a person may experience one during a faint.
Typically, the person “leaves” their body and observes scenes from above. Some people then travel down tunnels and/or encounter “spiritual” beings.”
Whether or not the person actually does leave their body is debatable. Mainstream scientists generally offer physical explanations. A small number of mainstream scientists, however, have suggested that consciousness as we understand it may not be totally reliant on the brain. In other words, a person’s consciousness may literally separate from the body in certain circumstances.
Incredible stuff. Having read numerous accounts, I would say that some NDE’s sound like a mixture of buried memories whereas others are remarkable in the lucid recounting of details and the later clarification of events “observed”.
Here is a brief sample from my novel, a psychological thriller.
I get up and leave, shivering outside as I walk across the hospital front in the freezing rain, the northern winds biting at my fingers and face, the downpour reaching deep into my trainers and socks. It’s nearly half four in the afternoon, and already almost dark, more like late autumn or early winter. An ambulance rushes into the front area of the hospital, lights flashing, and pulls to a halt by the entrance. For a while, I stand watching in a type of daze, remembering another time when an ambulance pulled up in the clearing at the bottom of Whaley Hill to take me to hospital after Vince Macarthur’s revenge attack on me. I was unconscious when that other ambulance arrived in the rain and fog, yet I remember it arriving and the female paramedic who treated me at the scene. I watched from far off, floating above myself before drifting into blackness; the thickest blackness interrupted by more floating in the hospital; seeing my mother and Mel in the hospital lobby with Wayne’s mother and father, even though I was lying on a hospital bed unconscious with my eyes shut. Then, blackness followed and no further memories.
In the distance, I hear voices above the commotion and sounds of the storm: Gordon and Barry calling my name, their voices like those interrupting a dream, yanking me back to the now.
‘You’re soaking, man,’ Barry says. ‘Want to catch pneumonia?’
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