Jesse F

Traumatic Event Leading Up to the Experience It was 1986, and I was 3 years old. My grandfather had recently purchased a cattle stud, what Americans would call a ranch, of over 3,000 acres in the Perth Hills. There were 12 houses on the property, so the entire family was moving into the various dwellings. The house we were moving into was inhabited by an elderly couple, who were ranchers, and they were downsizing to a much smaller, more manageable home in the city. They owned a cattle dog, which they asked to leave on the property. This was not unusual, because cattle dogs are working animals and are not suited to city life. They are more like employees than family members. The dog was a Blue Heeler, bred to be snappy and to nip cattle in order to move them through yards. My dad agreed to take the dog on, as we now had around 500 head of cattle to manage, and he was new to farming and out of his depth. A couple of weeks after moving in, I was playing in the backyard with a foam ball and bat, along with the dog, whose name was Cobber, an Australian slang term for mate. My parents were nearby, staking tomatoes in the vegetable garden. We had been out there for a while, and the dog had been happily fetching the ball. Even at 3 years old, I clearly remember the attack. I went to pick up the ball, and as I bent over, the bat dropped near the dog’s face. The dog was startled and attacked. It bit the left side of my face twice, deeply, and then nipped my trachea. The left side of my cheek was shredded. You could see my teeth through my face. I would have looked like Harvey Dent after his injuries in The Dark Knight. The next thing I remember is about 10 to 15 seconds later, when I was in Dad’s arms as he ran up the garden path to the house. Then I remember being in the laundry seconds later, with Dad pressing a green towel against my face. I watched it quickly soak red. Then my memory jumps again, and I am in his arms as they get into the car, with my uncle driving and flooring it as fast as possible to the hospital. My memory of that day ends there. I then recall, possibly a night or two later and likely after one of many surgeries, being alone in a hospital ward at night. I was vomiting repeatedly before drifting back to sleep. That concludes my memories of the traumatic event itself. The Experience I need to be clear that I cannot recall the exact timing of this experience. It may have been during my hospital stay, or it may have happened months later during recovery. I only know that it occurred sometime around that period. I remember what I thought at the time was a dream, using 3-year-old logic. I was lying on our large family sofa in the lounge room. There was big, solid wooden furniture and a huge stone open fireplace. It was unmistakably our home, not some random setting. Lying behind me, like a big spoon to a little spoon, was what I refer to as the Blue Fairy. You can think of the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio, or even the one in Spielberg’s film A.I. for reference. What made the experience so powerful was the feeling, something I still remember clearly to this day. I have since heard it described in many near-death experience accounts. It was a form of unconditional love that we do not really have words for, at least not in English. The closest I can come to describing it now is this: - Warmth without physical heat. - A deep knowing that everything was going to be okay. - The feeling of a mother softly lulling her child to sleep. - Pure, unexpected kindness from a stranger. - The comfort of a warm blanket or bath on a cold, rainy day. - A mother’s hug when a child is distressed. I am speculating, because I have never experienced this myself, but I imagine it might feel like a Navy SEAL finding a shoreline. Basically, it feels like home. There was no conversation. There was no exchange of words. There was only a silent, protective cradling by the Blue Fairy. Reflection At the time, I loved the movie Pinocchio. I would watch the entire film just to see the scenes with the Blue Fairy. That is what makes me reflect on this experience. It would make sense that, during a traumatic and frightening period of my life, when I felt alone and scared, a comforting presence might appear in a form familiar to me. I have since heard that this kind of personalized imagery is a common theme in these types of experiences. Ever since then, I have often gone to sleep, even now, hoping to feel that same presence again and that same sense of emotional security. There is also something else. When I close my eyes, I can sometimes see what I can only describe as shimmering royal blue, purple, and crimson light. It looks like thousands of grains of sand swirling like a soft, drifting gas cloud. That is all I see, but even that gives me the faintest trace of that same feeling. Maybe 0.00001 percent of it. But even that is enough to calm me completely. I have always associated that with the Blue Fairy. Her dress shimmered in a similar way, and it makes me feel like she is still close by when I need her. Postscript The first thing I said when I got home from the hospital was: “Where’s Cobber? I want to play with him.” If you want, I can also make this a little smoother and more polished while keeping your voice.