The Origin
I never planned to write a book. In fact, for most of my life, I never even considered the possibility.
What happened
Years ago, I was working as a tree climber for Asplundh Tree Service. During a job, the top of a tree broke while I was tied in. I fell. I kept working after the injury.
Three days later, my body shut down. Dizziness, incoherence, and inability to function. At the Emergency Care, I was misdiagnosed.
Then I went into cardiac arrest. I was revived with adrenaline.
In the ambulance, it happened again. A second cardiac arrest. The diagnosis was a brain bleed from a concussion and a dangerous fever, causing systemic shutdown.
The Near Death Experience
During the second cardiac arrest, something happened that I did not expect and could not explain.
I observed the medic working on my body, staring up at her face. My perspective shifted outside of myself, and I was suddenly looking at the back of her head and down at my own face.
When the defibrillator fired, I returned instantly. I do not claim to understand what happened. I can only tell you what I experienced.
What I Lost
Recovery left me with something far stranger than physical pain. My memory had been damaged, and with it, something even more difficult to explain.
My imagination was gone. The ability to picture things in my mind, faces, places, memories, even simple images, had disappeared completely. My inner world had gone dark.
I could still think. I could speak. I could recognize my wife and close family members. But much of my past had vanished, and the visual part of my mind had simply stopped working.
Most people do not realize how much of their thinking depends on images. Memories are pictures. Ideas become pictures. Even imagination itself is built from pictures we create inside our own heads. For me, those pictures were gone.
REBUILDING WITH BROKEN PIECES
People around me tried to help rebuild the missing pieces of my life. Family shared stories about things I had done, places I had been, moments I should have remembered.
But their memories mixed with the faint fragments of my own, creating confusion rather than clarity. The person they described sounded familiar, but he felt like someone I was meeting for the first time.
For several months, I did not dream. Not once. No images appeared when I slept. No flickers of imagination returned. My nights were as empty as my waking thoughts.
Then the Visions Began
Slowly, something unexpected began to happen. The dreams returned. But they were not like the dreams people described or that I had 9 years later.
These dreams came with unusual clarity and structure. They unfolded like scenes in a story, each one connected to the next in ways that felt deliberate. I was not a part of the dream. I viewed it like a movie, always accompanied by the same figure, and was allowed to ask questions regarding what I was seeing.
Mostly receiving answers, but sometimes being dismissed like a child being told to just be quiet until you have seen the whole movie.
They were also the only images my mind seemed capable of producing.
I Was Told to Write Them Down
I was told to write them down as (CRT) Cognitive Rehabilitation Therapy. Recording the Visions and reviewing them was meant to help rebuild neurological pathways and strengthen my brain's ability to visualize again.
So I began documenting them. Every morning after a night of Visions, I would wake and immediately start writing, trying to capture every image, every detail, every impression before it faded.
At the time, I believed I was simply performing a mental exercise, something to help my recovery. I had no idea I was recording the outline of a spiritual book.
I was, and I am, a very Unlikely Messenger.
Years later, rediscovering those hurriedly written pages revealed something remarkable. The Visions were not random.
They formed a sequence. One Vision seemed to lead directly into the next, as if they were chapters of a narrative unfolding over time.
They dealt with questions humanity has wrestled with for thousands of years.
The nature of God.
The origins of creation.
The role of humanity.
The fall of Lucifer.
Why were we created?
The true purpose of the woman.
The strange intersection between science and faith.
And more…
These Visions were not sermons. They were not something I asked for. They were certainly not something I ever expected to share with anyone beyond my family.
They were simply the only images my mind could produce during a time when imagination had otherwise disappeared.
They Were Not Random
Over time, those Visions became part of my healing. They returned images to a mind that had lost them. They restored a sense of connection when memory felt broken. And they introduced ideas that I spent years wrestling with. Ideas about creation, purpose, doubt, and the unseen laws that may govern existence itself.