The following near-death experience appears in P.M.H. Atwater's book, Children of the New Millennium (now out of print - see The New Children and Near-Death Experiences). P.M.H. Atwater is a three time near-death experiencer and long time researcher of NDEs. Her emphasis on the importance of NDE aftereffects and her theory regarding a transformation "brain-shift" that follows the experience have energized research in the field. P.M.H. Atwater is respected within the field for her originality and known for her direct and provocative ideas. In her book, "Children of the New Millennium," she reports the account of a child named Lynn, at age thirteen, who had a near-death experience in which he sees his beloved dogs in heaven. Lynn underwent open-heart surgery at age thirteen to correct a condition she had had almost since birth. She was unable to run and play with the other kids, and she would on occasion turn blue and get sick. A large black Great Dane named Harvey was her constant companion and best buddy. Lynn's near-death experience is described below:

The last thing I remember in surgery was a male voice saying in a very matter-of-fact way, "Uh-oh, we have a problem here."

The next thing I knew I was floating around the ceiling looking down on my body. My chest was open wide and I could see my internal organs. I remember thinking how odd it was that my organs were a beautiful pearl gray, not at all like the bright red chucks in the horror flicks I loved to watch. I also noticed there was a black doctor and an Oriental one on the operating team. The reason this stuck in my mind is that I was brought up in a very white middle-class neighborhood, and I had seen black schoolteachers but never a black doctor. I'd met the operating team the day before, but they were all white.

Suddenly, I had to move on, so I floated into the waiting room, where my parents were. My father had his head buried in my mother's lap. He was kneeling at her feet, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he was sobbing. My mother was stroking his head, whispering to him. This scene shocked me, as my father was not prone to showing emotions. Once I realize they would be fine, I felt myself pulled into a horizontal tunnel.

The ride through the tunnel was like nothing else. I remember thinking, "So this is death." 

The tunnel was dark, and every once in a while something that looking like lightning would flash across my path. These flashes were brilliant in color and didn't scare me. At the end of the tunnel was a bright light.

From the light came two dogs of mine. One was a collie named Mimi who had died three years previously from an infection, and the other was a box named Sam who had died two years before after being hit by a car. The dogs came running and jumped on me and kissed my face with their tongues. Their tongues weren't wet, and I felt no weight when they jumped on me.  The dogs seemed to glow from a light that was inside them. 

I recall saying to myself, "Thank you, God, for letting my dogs be alive." 

I hugged my dogs as tight as I could.

I then called my dogs and together we started walking toward the light. All colors were in the light and it was warm, a living thing, and there were people as far as the eye could see, and they were glowing with an inner light - just like my dogs. In the distance I could see fields, hills, and a sky. 

The light spoke and it said, "Lynn, it is not time for you yet.  Go back, child." 

I put my hand up to touch the top of the light. I knew then that I had touched the face of God. I told God that I loved him, and I wanted to stay with him. 

Again the light said, "Lynn, go back. It is not time for you. You have work to do for me.  Go back."

I know this sounds silly, but I asked the light, "If I go, can I come back and will my dogs still be here waiting for me?" 

The light said yes, and then told me there were people who wanted to see me before I left. From out of the light came my maternal grandparents. I ran to them and embraced them. They were going to walk me part of the way back. Just as I was turning to leave, a man stepped from the light. He wore a full dress uniform, U.S. Navy.  He was very tall and very blond, with blue eyes. I had never seen the man before, but he knew me and smiled.

"I am your uncle Franklin. Tell Dorothy that I'm okay and that the baby is with me. Tell her I never stopped loving her and that I am glad she got on with her life. Tell her that when her time comes, I will come for her. Remember to tell her I love her." 

As I turned, the man shouted, "Tell Dorothy, tell her you met Franklin and I'm okay and so is the baby."

My grandparents told me if I stayed any longer I might not make it back. But I wanted to talk with Jesus. I had a very important question to ask him. A beam of light, different from yet similar to the first one, covered me. I knew this light was Christ. I leaned against it for one moment and then asked my question. 

"Dear Jesus, is it true that you gave me this heart condition so that I would have a cross to carry like you did?" 

(Sister Agnes, my sixth-grade teacher, had told me that my heart condition was my cross to bear from Christ.)  

I heard the voice of Christ vibrate through me as he said, "No, this heart condition of yours is not a cross from me for you to bear.  This heart condition is a challenge to help you grow and stay compassionate. Now, go back."

As I walked back, my grandmother told me that my father was going to leave my mother and that I would be my mother's strength. I saw people hiding in the tunnel, people who were afraid to come into the light or who were disoriented about where they were. I expressed concern for them but was told not to worry, as a guide would be along to help them. Some of these people looked like soldiers. Then I remembered Vietnam and I knew where the soldiers were coming from."

[Webmaster's note: In PMH Atwater's book, she documents how the revelations Lynn received in her near-death experience were later proven to be true, such as the black and Asian doctors, her uncle Franklin and the baby, and her father leaving the family.]