I Crossed Over to the Spirit World — And Came Back✨
There was a moment in my life when, for a brief period of time, I was no longer in this world.
I don’t really know how to start this story, but I’m here to tell you something that truly happened to me — the night I crossed over to the spirit world.
What happened that night changed me permanently. After everything I experienced, I was not the same person. And when I say that, I don’t mean it in a dramatic way. I mean it literally. The way I see life changed at the core.
Before I continue, I want to make something clear: this is a 100% true story. I’m not trying to convert anyone to a religion or change your beliefs about God or the afterlife. I’m simply telling you what happened to me. You can interpret it however you want.
But this is exactly how it happened.
Living at the Hospital
It happened in May 2019. I was in the hospital with my dying grandmother. I was practically living there for almost a month, sleeping there nearly every day. I was the family member who took on the responsibility of being there most of the time with her. My grandma was dying of cancer.
What I experienced during that time changed my life forever.
It was nighttime, around 3 AM. The hospital was pretty empty, and we had the whole room to ourselves. My grandma was in a coma, heavily medicated with morphine and other drugs. She was dying.
I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I hadn’t been sleeping well. I wasn’t eating much. I was exhausted and desperate. I was on my knees praying to God, begging Him to help my grandma, to take care of her, to make things better. I was devastated. I didn’t know it at the time, but that prayer would be answered in a way I never could have imagined.
The only light in the room came from the hallway through a slightly cracked door. Everything else was dark and quiet.
The Room Filled With Voices
As I was praying, crying, and talking to God, I suddenly started hearing voices — like a crowd of people had gathered around me, talking among themselves. I looked around. It was just me and my grandma. But I kept hearing them. It felt like the room was filling up with people.
Then, in one moment — I blinked.
And I was somewhere else.
The Whitest Light I've Ever Seen
I was in a place of pure white. The whitest light I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t like any white we see here. It was brighter, cleaner, more intense. Everything was white and glowing.
It felt like I was in the same hospital room—but transformed. Everything was radiant. The bed was white. The light was everywhere.
The room was full of entities. Not people exactly — spirits. I could see their forms shaped by a yellow aura. I couldn’t see faces or details — just glowing outlines shaped like beings.
They were gathered around my grandma’s bed. And they were excited. Happy. It felt joyful. Like they were preparing to receive her.
I realized I was standing in the same spot as one of the entities — almost overlapping with it, like we were occupying the same space. It was like I was there, but not fully there. I felt like I was shifting between worlds.
Then I blinked again.
And I was back in the dark hospital room.
I looked at the clock. Not even a minute had passed. But it felt like I had been there for 10 or 15 minutes.
That experience shook me deeply. It took me years to truly process it.
Seeing the Dead
Later, around 8 AM, my family came to pick me up because they thought I needed rest. When I tried explaining what had happened, they later told me I was speaking gibberish and not making any sense.
On the drive home, I was sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the window. I saw people walking on the sidewalk. And among them—I saw dead people. They looked normal. Dressed like they were going to work. Walking like they had somewhere to be. But I knew they weren’t alive. They looked at me. I looked at them. And somehow, I just knew they weren’t supposed to be here.
I told my uncle Eduardo, “Those are dead people. They’re not supposed to be here.” He thought I was exhausted and needed sleep.
The very next day, on May 16, 2019, my grandmother passed away.
Seeing My Grandmother's Spirit
After she died, I was destroyed emotionally. I eventually made a song titled “Goodbye” about her death. But I didn’t talk about crossing over at the time because I didn’t understand it yet.
I started seeing my grandma in dreams, and then, I began seeing her while awake. I would talk to her, and my family became concerned.
For about a year, this continued.
Then, it slowly stopped.
And years later, something else began.
The Entities Begin Visiting
After my grandma passed and the year of seeing her spirit slowly faded, about three years after her passing on May 16, something new began happening: the entities started visiting me.
At first, it didn’t make sense. I would wake up in the middle of the night—not fully awake, not fully asleep—in that in-between state where your body feels heavy but your awareness is coming back online. And I would feel something in the room.
Not a sound exactly. More like a presence.
The first time it happened, I opened my eyes slightly and looked to my left.
There was something standing beside me.
It wasn’t solid like a human body. It wasn’t transparent like a ghost in a movie either. It was somewhere in between—like it existed on top of my reality but wasn’t fully inside it. Almost layered over my world.
I panicked. I jumped back and reached for the light switch.
The second the light turned on—it was gone.
I turned the light off.
It was there again.
That’s when I knew this wasn’t just my imagination playing tricks on shadows.
Over time, different entities appeared. Not every night at first. But eventually, it became frequent—sometimes every night. Sometimes the same one. Sometimes different ones.
There were about five main types I remember clearly.
The Atom Entity
One of them looked like a long, vertical black line—like a spine—with a spherical shape around its center, almost like the structure of an atom from a science textbook. It didn’t have a face, arms, or legs the way we understand them. But it had presence. Awareness. Intelligence.
It wasn’t tall—maybe about a foot high. But standing next to it, I felt small. Not physically small, but existentially small. Like I was the child and it was ancient.
The Tentacle Being
Another one had tentacle-like appendages. Not quite like an octopus, not exactly like a squid. It had a bluish-purple and white color scheme. It didn’t feel aggressive—just alien.
The Cactus Ghost Giant
Then there was one that genuinely terrified me.
It looked like a massive cactus-shaped ghost being. Huge. Thick. Covered in long, sharp spikes. It didn’t have visible eyes, but I felt it looking at me. It stood beside my bed like a silent guardian or observer. It was enormous—almost Bigfoot-sized in presence—and the spikes looked solid and dangerous.
But it never attacked.
It just stood there.
The Floating Brain Creatures
Another time, when I tried escaping by sleeping in the living room, I saw what looked like floating brains with dangling tendrils. There were about five of them, hovering around the couch. They were about stomach-height. They pulsed slightly, almost like they were breathing.
I got up in fear and ran—straight through them.
They weren’t solid. They were there, but not fully there.
They reminded me of creatures from the video game StarCraft, specifically the Overlord from the Zerg race. When I later looked it up, I realized similar designs exist in sci-fi. That made me wonder: have people seen these things before? Is that where some of our mythology and fiction comes from?
The Communication
At first, my reaction was pure fear. Every time I saw one, my instinct was to run, turn on the light, hide, or leave the room.
But they kept appearing—even if I slept somewhere else.
Eventually, I stopped running.
I started asking questions.
The communication wasn’t verbal. It was telepathic, but not clear like hearing a voice in your head. It was more like impressions, fragments, emotions, half-formed concepts. There was a lag—like trying to stream a video with bad internet.
The best way I can describe it is this: imagine explaining advanced physics to a baby. You wouldn’t use full sentences. You’d simplify everything—slow and difficult, like baby talk. That’s what it felt like. They were simplifying concepts for me because my brain couldn’t fully process their form of communication.
Over time—and this took about six months of repeated encounters—I began to understand something:
They had seen me when I crossed over in May 2019.
From their perspective, I had briefly entered the spirit realm. In my timeline, about three years had passed before they began visiting me. In theirs, it had just happened.
Time doesn’t function the same way there.
They were curious. They followed the same “path” I took back into this world.
They weren’t demons. They were just beings from another realm—existing differently, adapting to their own world. They weren’t attacking me. They were observing. Studying. Curious about a human who crossed over and returned.
And the strangest part? Even though they looked horrifying, I never felt evil from them. I felt foreignness. Otherness. But not malice.
The fear mostly came from my human instinct—seeing something unfamiliar and labeling it dangerous.
The Night I Asked for It to Stop
The encounters went on for about six months.
Finally, one night, I was exhausted. I lay in bed and prayed again.
I said, “God, I don’t want this anymore. I just want peace. I just want to sleep.”
Immediately, above me—hovering over my bed—appeared a beautiful, glowing white Asian dragon. Serpent-like. Elegant. Luminous. It didn’t flap wings. It hovered effortlessly, coiled in the air, lighting up the entire room with white light.
Its presence was protective. Powerful. Calm.
It communicated clearly: I was safe. The visits would stop. There was nothing to fear.
That night, I slept peacefully.
And from that night on, the entities stopped appearing.
What Changed in Me
After everything I experienced, I was not the same person.
When I say that, I don’t mean it in a dramatic way. I mean it literally. The way I see life changed at the core. Before 2019, I cared about normal things—money, recognition, stress, arguments, pride, proving myself right, holding grudges longer than I should have. I worried about bills. I worried about what people thought of me. I worried about being successful by society’s standards.
After crossing into that place and seeing what I saw, all of that felt small.
When you witness something that powerful—something that clearly exists beyond this physical world—it rearranges your priorities. I realized that everything material is temporary. Every possession will eventually belong to someone else or turn into dust. Every argument that feels important now will mean nothing later. The ego becomes meaningless when you understand that consciousness continues beyond the body.
I stopped obsessing over things I can’t control. I became more patient. I became slower to anger. I started choosing peace more intentionally. I began valuing time over money, presence over pride, and connection over status.
One of the biggest changes in me was how I began to value life—all life.
Before this experience, I didn’t think twice about killing insects. If there was a cockroach in my apartment, I would step on it without hesitation. If there were bugs or flies bothering me, I would kill them. It was automatic. Normal. I never questioned it.
Now, I can’t do that anymore.
Something inside me changed. I began to see even the smallest creatures as living beings with their own purpose. Their own awareness. Their own place in existence. Every life feels significant to me now, no matter how small.
If I find a cockroach in my apartment today, I don’t kill it. I capture it carefully. I take it outside. I release it somewhere away from my home so it doesn’t come back in, but I don’t end its life. I do the same with insects, bugs, flies—anything I can safely remove without harm. I know some people may think that’s extreme, but for me it’s a reflection of what I learned: life is sacred.
Every life is precious.
That awareness also changed how I deal with people. I stay away from negativity much faster now. I distance myself from people who carry constant darkness, drama, or destructive energy. I don’t judge them — I just don’t immerse myself in it. I’ve become protective of my mental and spiritual space.
Even visually, I shifted. I gravitate toward brightness. I surround myself with lighter, brighter colors. I avoid heavy, dark black environments and aesthetics because they affect how I feel. I became more conscious of energy — not just emotionally, but atmospherically. What you surround yourself with matters.
Most importantly, my relationship with God changed.
Before, prayer was something I did occasionally. After that experience, prayer was something I did several times a day. Not out of fear—but out of awareness. I felt like I had seen proof that there is more. That there is order beyond chaos. That death is not the end.
Since then, I take my health more seriously. I try to treat people better. I try to leave situations cleaner than I found them. I distance myself from negativity faster. I pay attention to my intuition. I’m more aware of the unseen.
This experience also taught me that we limit ourselves. We can do more than we think. The only real limitations are the ones we place on ourselves. At the same time, this kind of experience puts you in your place. It reminds you how small we are compared to the grand scheme of everything.
Conclusion
And when it comes to my grandmother, I no longer say “I believe.”
I know that my grandmother went to heaven because I saw it with my own eyes.
I saw the light. I saw the beings gathered joyfully. I felt the atmosphere of celebration, not mourning. There was no darkness there. No fear. No suffering. It felt like a homecoming. Like she was being welcomed somewhere she belonged.
My grandmother was not religious in a traditional sense. She didn’t follow institutions or denominations. She simply prayed to God directly. She chose right from wrong every day. She didn’t hold hatred in her heart. She forgave easily. She was kind, loving, generous. She fed everyone who came to her home. She kept the family together.
What I saw confirmed for me that faith is not about labels. It’s about the condition of your heart.
It also took me years to fully process and understand everything that happened that night in the hospital. At the time, I was exhausted, emotional, and desperate. I was on my knees praying to God, asking Him to help my grandmother. I asked Him to take care of her. I asked Him for help.
Looking back now, after years of reflection, I believe that what I experienced was His answer.
In that moment, I was shown something most people never see. I was shown that my grandmother was not disappearing into nothing. She was being received. She was going somewhere filled with light, peace, and joy. The experience was not just about her—it was also meant for me.
It was God’s way of showing me that everything was going to be okay.
The changes in me didn’t happen overnight. They happened gradually over the years as I thought more deeply about what I had experienced and began to understand it little by little. The more I reflected on it, the more it changed how I saw life, people, and the world around me.
I’m not perfect. I still struggle. I still get frustrated. But there is a deeper calm underneath everything now. A knowing that this world is not all there is.
That experience didn’t make me crazy. It made me conscious.
I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind about religion, God, or the afterlife. Regardless of what you believe, it doesn’t change the fact that this is what happened to me.
I crossed over.
I saw what I saw.
And it changed me—forever.