NOTE: While the following story is autobiographical, I have written it in the third person from the perspective of a mature child. To this day, I believe that a child's spiritual death experience is sensed to be more of a wondrous adventure-like journey to Heaven than that of a glorious passage, experienced and reported by most adults after coming back from death.    ~Raymond Warren Bennett

There once was a ordinary boy who lived in an ordinary house, located in the middle of an ordinary town. On a chilly fall evening in 1962, his mother sat on the edge of his bed, and together they recited the prayer that had become part of their nightly ritual. "Now I lay me down to sleep and pray the Lord my soul to keep. Should I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." The seven and a half year old boy then crawled into bed, and with the covers pulled up around his shoulders, his mother leaned over and kissed him good night.

When his mom reached the bedroom doorway, she turned around, smiled softly, and wished her son pleasant dreams. "Tomorrow is a school day", she reminded him. "A good night's sleep will make you bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning". She blew him a kiss, waved goodbye in her cute signature fashion, and disappeared into the hallway outside his room. Their nightly ritual had now been completed. With a puppy-like nature, the child then wiggled and snuggled into his soft bedding in search of a comfortable spot, then closed his eyes for the evening.

While the young boy slept on his back, with arms tightly tucked under his covers, he dreamed of riding bicycles, climbing trees and soaring through the air like an eagle in flight. Suddenly a pillow came bearing down over his small face with a steady force that was no match for this child. Taken by surprise, the victim tried to scream, but his muffled voice could not be heard.
He valiantly struggled to work his arms free in attempt to defend himself, but the weight of the attacker's body held the covers tightly pinned. Within seconds, comfortable bedding was transformed into a cotton and wool straight jacket and a pillow . . . into a lethal weapon. Not able to draw breath any longer, the child soon weakened and passed away.

The boy then remembered rising up out of his body, but how could this be?  Out of the corner of his eye an ominous shadow could now be seen moving quickly across the room. Oddly enough
the child remained calm, focused and immersed in what was unfolding before him. There was never a question as to who or why, only a sense of trust and acceptance of what was to be. Next a muffled boom-like noise was heard followed by the feeling of passing through an invisible film-like membrane. This sensation was by far unusual, and hard to translate into words. Neither smooth or rough, damp nor dry, heavy or light. Perhaps a comfortable, translucent fabric separating ordinary space and time would describe it best. 
The Divine Experience
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