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Edward found himself in a beautiful bright presence, “like walking out of a movie theater in the daytime,” and sank into the warmth as into a steamy bathtub. He soaked in the peace and joy for some time. Then he began to investigate the scenery.

“It’s as if I had walked into the Library of Congress. There are these giant tomes, and I looked around, and every question, every concern, every thought I had, was answered as quickly as I formed the thought. Questions like, ‘Why was I here?’ ‘How come my father was so upset with such-and-such event in his life?’ And all my questions were answered.”

Eventually Edward exhausted his questions. He spotted a majestic figure sitting on a throne—someone, he said, who bore a striking resemblance to Charlton Heston in his movie role as Moses. This was God the Father, apparently, and God patted His left thigh and said, “Come on,” like Santa Claus in the department store.

“And in the next instant, I am in His lap, with His arm supporting my back, and He is pouring down this smiling love, it was in His eyes—the love I see in mothers when their baby is given to them at birth,” Edward recalled. “And God said, ‘This is where you always are, if you would only know it.’ ”

Edward recalls basking in God’s gaze, until God pointed down to His feet. There Edward saw images, like so many pictures from an album that had spilled on the floor—memories spanning from his childhood to just a few days before the accident. He relived the memories from a 360-degree perspective, not only what he, Edward, had done and thought and felt, but how his actions affected others. He saw the girl in elementary school who had a lisp, and recalled teasing her because he wanted to be accepted by the other children.

“So I mimicked her. And I not only recalled the experience, I felt how she felt. I experienced the consequences of my behaviors.”

Edward paused, looking truly stricken. “As I recall it now, I want to cry with how cruel I was and how painful and hurtful that was. And I turned again into God’s eyes, and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ And the response was an unconditional, loving acceptance that said, ‘It is neither good nor bad in the greater sense. Are you through?’ ”

In this way, Edward marched through his entire life, recalling his bad acts and his good. The time in high school when he rescued a girl from drowning at the beach, the moments a few days before his accident when he had fudged on an expense account. Finally Edward had picked up the final snapshot: his life review was complete. Sensing that they were done, and that he might be asked to leave the peace and return to his wrecked body, Edward announced that he did not want to return.

“I said, ‘Let me just put this pile of pictures back in order, and just send a message to Mom to let her know I’m okay, not to worry,’ ” he said.“I had a momentary thought—an earthly attachment—and Boom! I woke up in the hospital bed with my mother rubbing my feet. It was two weeks later.”

Edward’s story is a masterpiece. Not only does it include every element of a near-death experience, but his description precisely echoes the stories of other people at the Houston conference: the out-of-body experience, viewing his crumpled body with puzzlement and painlessness. The perfect, infinite knowledge he received in the “Library of Congress,” as if tapping into a conscious intelligence, all-knowing and all-seeing. The total acceptance and lack of judgment by God or the light, depending on one’s religious doctrine. The life review, in which the experiencer lives through the experience from at least two sides: his actions and their impact on others. The personal transformation that the traumatic experience sparks. Edward, for example, gave up his business career to become “a minister, a yoga teacher, and my wife’s chauffeur.” Finally, the return to his body, which was triggered by a connection to his life, to unfinished business and relationships.

Because I had been exploring the brain in the throes of “mystical” experience,