Tales From a Shaman: When Death Came To Take Me

Featured Guest Writer | New | Tales From a Shaman


This incident involves betrayal and deception; and possibly, in my opinion, attempted murder. It occurred in my days of practicing shamanism and acceptance of new age beliefs. I believed that certain psychedelics could advance you to a higher plane, induce visions, and allow you to journey to other worlds or existences. I also believed you could possibly meet mysterious entities that would help illuminate your consciousness and knowledge, as well as increase your understanding of the universe. And if possible, grant you supernatural gifts and awaken inherent abilities, such as increased intuition and psychic power. I was woefully naïve. In this case my choice of psychedelic drug was Cannabis.

A close individual supplied the cannabis and I figured this was one of our customary mind-altering sessions. I loaded the bong and promptly smoked it. This person waited and watched as I lit the cannabis but did not want to join me in this session— something I thought was unusual and in retrospect, suspicious. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the effects that cannabis induced, it was a stress relief, and may supply me with a ‘journey’ or higher consciousness. I was creating art and it may help with my creativity or channeling so to speak.

I returned to my workshop and immediately started to feel strange and could not think straight. My body felt weak, and I was overcome with intense nausea; I had to sit down. I found myself vomiting uncontrollably for the next hour. I crawled to the toilet and could not stop vomiting. My stomach began to cramp due to the intense muscular contractions as my body seemingly fought to rid itself of all the contents of my stomach. The individual in question watched as I hung onto the toilet, and eventually collapsing onto the floor. I crawled into the main room, I was so weak and felt as if I was losing control. I struggled to sit up straight but could not stop vomiting and was soon expelling yellow bile. The floor was soon covered in vomit. I then started to lose my vision as ‘snow’ filled my eyesight, eventually diminishing into tunnel vision—leading into blind darkness. I could barely think, I tried to concentrate on my surroundings, but lost my sense of bodily control. My hearing was filled with the sounds of static and ‘snow.’ This person just watched.

I made one last attempt to regain control and tried to sit up, but it was difficult and nearly impossible. I was paralyzed. The person watched as I suffered, eventually asking if I was ok. Why didn’t they call for help? Why didn’t they call for emergency services? In that moment I tried to be stoic, I also did not want them to panic or be frightened. I fought to speak, barely able to tell them that I would be alright. They bid me goodnight and promptly left, leaving me alone in my torment and affliction. Upon hearing the door close, I collapsed on the floor, I was purely exhausted. I fell to my side in a pool of vomit.

I lost all control of my body. I felt the most horribly intense nausea as my stomach continued to convulse, feeling the pain of every pulse, yet I was devoid of vomit or fluid. All could hear was static and pulsating waves of ‘snow.’ My vision was failing me, only allowing me to see blurred images as I fought to see. I could not breathe and started to suffocate. The notion of my inevitable demise crept in as I sadly accepted my fate. I was undergoing a depression at this point in my life, figured this was my time, and would bring me peace.

I laid there in agony, paralyzed, blind, and growing deaf. Suddenly, the door opened, my security bells rang out, alerting me of an unexpected guest. Did the previous person return to check on me? I felt their presence, I heard them move about, their malicious energy was discernable. I heard my office stool springs compress as if someone sat down upon it. I waited for them to say something. I then heard the wickedest evil snicker, as if to mock me, and gloat. I knew right then that this was the spirit of Death, and they were there for me—I was going to die.

At that moment, upon realization of my destiny, I grew angry and realized I was not ready to go. How dare they? I did not want Death to take me. I could not think straight, my thoughts were scattered, I could not focus; but knew I had to pray. I sensed the aura of chaos and darkness fill the room. I fought to control my body, I knew what I wanted my limbs to do, and labored intensely to sit upright; eventually rising in victory. But I still could not see. I fought to see through my cloudy vision; and as if crawling through the thick grey fog of my mind to reach my eyes, finally gaining enough sight to see through tunnel vision, the desk in front of me. I struggled to think clearly. How do I pray? What do I say? Why can’t I find words?

The only thought I could find, which was clear, was who I should call out to help for. I wrestled to find the words, HIS name, my Elohim; eventually praying as hard as I could to the Messiah in my thoughts. Yeshua! I want to live! Help! I felt the outpouring of anger and intensity of the malicious energy of Death quake as it stood up from the stool. The door opened then slammed shut as the security bells chimed loudly as they swung violently. The feeling of peace filled the room and I felt comforted. I was blessed with more time to live and complete my journey here on Earth. I regained control of my limbs and my senses; I could breathe again. I immediately collapsed in exhaustion and lost consciousness.

I awoke in the morning surprised to be alive, as did the individual who left me to die. I remember the morning was beautiful, the sky was clear, the sunrise was magnificent. I felt clear and more alert than ever. I was joyful to be alive and knew I cheated Death—knowing we would eventually meet again. But not today and not for a while. I rose in prayer and gave thanks to the Almighty Creator and the Messiah. Years later, in my research, as well as consulting with health professionals, the likely poison was fentanyl—I should technically be dead. I can only imagine why they did it. This incident was one of the few moments, during my practice of shamanism, that I called out to the Messiah—and he arrived straightaway. Another sign that led me to the path of the Torah.

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