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This beautiful, amazing show about dying and the afterlife is not to be missed. This wonderful, empowering program begins with Whitley’s description of the most incredible contact he has so far had with Anne, one so powerful that it has changed him from a person who believes in the afterlife to one who knows that it’s real.
Then he interviews Lisa Smartt who has written the definitive book about the significance of what people say when they are at the threshold of death. She also founded the Final Words Project and works extensively with Dr. Raymond Moody, author of Life after Life.
We are constantly bombarded with the idea that we don’t have souls and there is no afterlife, but the truth is that not only do we have souls, we are here on their behalf. Life is lived for the soul.
Join Whitley and Lisa on the beautiful journey they take together in this great show!
Lisa Smartt’s website is FinalWordsProject.org
Subscribers, to watch the subscriber version of the video, first log in then click on Dreamland Subscriber-Only Video Podcast link.
Last evening, I was listening
Last evening, I was listening to Dreamland while driving around running errands. I had only gotten to about 42.5 min in the show when i arrived home. I got out of my Jetta and immediately, I saw a small while moth, it looked like one of those small lawn moths that don’t have very big wings. I followed it along for 10 to 15 feet before it landed in a shrub. I tried to flush it out so I could get a picture of it, but I couldn’t find it. I look forward to listening through the remainder of the show.
Since my father passed on
Since my father passed on last feb, the lights in our house would blow smash flicker. All electrics have been tested and are sound. Still im thinking could this be my dad? well the day of his birthday literally 1 minute after 12pm I switch the kitchen light on and the light bulb shattered across the table
This was a FASCINATING
This was a FASCINATING interview, Whitley! This is an aspect of life and death that’s largely been ignored.
Having read some of Dannion Brinkley and seen mention on some supernatural TV shows, I was made aware of Raymond Moody and his works. He seemed to be an amazing man who was sincere in his research. Makes me wish that I’d get a chance to meet him. I find his “Psychomanteum” to be especially fascinating. Sounds like sensory deprivation with a supernatural bent.
Anyway, I hope that you have Lisa Smartt back soon. I’m sure that there are worlds more to discuss! Thank you.
A few addenda:
A good friend
A few addenda:
A good friend of mine recently lost a close friend of her’s. Since then, she’s been seeing yellow moths (in Texas) that linger a bit, especially after having a dream about her.
Also, comedian Sam Kinison’s death was described by his girlfriend as similar to the conversations described. He crashed his Corvette on the way to a gig in Laughlin, AZ. He was lying on the pavement, where she found him, having a conversation with someone unseen. It ended with him addressing his girlfriend, saying that he “had to go now”. And he died shortly thereafter.
It appears that the video of
It appears that the video of the moth is not available.
Thank you for this brilliant
Thank you for this brilliant interview. It has provoked many different thoughts, and suggested numerous directions of inquiry for me, but I’ll just mention one. Many of the qualities of the language used by the dying, as Lisa Smartt describes them, are also characteristic of some people perceived to be suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s disease years, even decades before they might actually be considered to be dying. These include glossolalia, speaking in paradoxes, speaking other languages and conversing with the dead. It raises a lot of questions, for me about what is really going on with these people, whether they might, in a way, already be “traversing the bridge.” This is not to romanticize, or diminish the real suffering involved, but I wonder if there isn’t a lot more to be learned here as well.
“… we need metaphors or
“… we need metaphors or nonsense to describe it…” That is perfect. For me this is at the core of so much of this we share here with Whitley and this site. Also it reflects much if not all of art which I believe is really the conscious direct line to the ineffable.
I loved this interview and
I loved this interview and the accompanying White Moths podcast and reading of the short story.
In regards to the comment at the end of the White Moth reading: please don’t go yet Whitley. I want to do a portrait of you.
You also are deeply loved,
You also are deeply loved, right here, Whitley.
As a person who was a hospice volunteer many years ago, i can say that “being” with the people on this journey – was an exquisite gift to me that i hadn’t anticipated. There was great joy and more love than can adequately be expressed. The people were my teachers and i can not begin to say how blessed was the space and time we shared.
Oh… i almost forgot! My
Oh… i almost forgot! My mother passed a few years ago. She loved cardinals (birds). When i saw cardinals with my grandchildren present, i said (sometimes) it was Mimi … letting us know she is fine. Last Thursday, i think, i was driving and hit a bird that died on the road behind me. I was so sad for having done that, even as an accident. I had been thinking of my Dad the day before (Wed.) and didn’t know what kind of bird he especially loved. Somehow, i thought of bluebirds, which i had never seen in person. (My Dad taught me about the environment in the 1960’s as he grew food and took care of the earth. Rachel Carson’s book was one i read after he finished it. )
So, On Thursday, very late afternoon, i went outside and sat alone on the deck. Did some meditating, and was brought back with the sound of a bird chirping. I opened my eyes to see a beautiful bluebird sitting on the bag of grass seen atop the deck. It was looking right at me, chirping. Joy, love and peace. Somehow, my Dad was there, and it was a gift for me… and to share with others.
I couldn’t help but think
I couldn’t help but think about my Father’s death a little over nine months ago, after a six year long battle with diabetes related complications. In the last weeks of his life, I after work, had to drive him nightly to a local hospital, a 100km round trip for antibiotic injections. I recall how he would always be talking about being on a journey, having gone too far, that it was time to take the trailer off. Many references to going somewhere he did not recognize, despite the 73 years experience of the main roads we were driving on.
I recall holding his hand while the priest said prayers and the moment I became aware, I could feel him floating above my left shoulder. That he had died. How since that, I swear he is still around. I could feel him sitting next to my mother at the viewing, prior to the funeral.
Since that, for no apparent logical reason, heaters/ reverse cycle air-cons, and pay-TV turn themselves on, wherever I go. At home, on holiday to the ocean and last week at my new job. Then when I got home again the other day.
I really hate to think the guy is cold and bored wherever he is. I get the impression he does not want to leave his farm, where I live. I guess I have just accepted as fait accompli some kind of bond seems to have formed during his death process. I try not to be scared though it does bother me at times. Got the impression that his nature of being a helpfull guy has crossed the boundary of death.
Just so many strange things have happened since nine months ago. Synchroncity, coincidence and wierdest of all, the odometer in my car somehow went back to 250,000 from 260,000 from when last week I left in in the shed and took my ute instead. I have never heard of an odometer going backwards.
Something else that bothered
Something else that bothered me about all this, was how I seemed to know somehow he was not coming home from the hospital this time. I knew months in advance. How the same thing happened as per my grandmother 13 years ago. That I was the last person they communicated with and then died while I held their hand.
That afternoon last August I will never forget the look in someones eyes when brain function is shutting down yet seemingly being able to feel their emotions, fear and concern for those they will leave behind. That absolute feeling of emptyness knowing you are powerless to stop a loved one dying though they are waiting for you to give them permission to leave reality as we know it.