Death: Awakening to Life
Date of Publication: October 31, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9885851-2-6 paperback
Number of pages: 196
Word Count: 80,849
Cover Artist: Andreea Vraciu and Laura C. Cantu
Tagline: Peek through the veils to the other side.
What happens after we die’ has been a question that has haunted humanity since the dawn of abstract thought. Many theories have been offered, but finding evidence has seemed impossible.
In Death: Awakening to Life, Christine Contini takes us on a journey through life, death, healing, and rebirth. At thirty-one years old, Christine was diagnosed with Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis.
A newfound spirituality gave her the power to overcome the habitual belief systems that had sanctioned her body to become so unwell. Through a daily practice of meditation, she began learning how to change her habits and thought patterns, but it wasn’t until seven years later when she experienced a sudden cardiac death that the real changes began to occur.
The contact she had with the recently deceased led to her concept called ‘energetics’ – a system that could be used to bring balance and health to the living. Without her experiences in working alongside the deceased, her concept would not have been fully developed.
In Death: Awakening to Life, the journey Christine will lead you through is one you will never forget; hopefully, the accounts will inspire you to start asking questions about your own views of the world and your place in it. The proof we’ve all been seeking for what really exists after death is here in this book. Once it’s realized, the possibilities for healing and living can also be fully grasped. Christine reminds us that we have a responsibility to live our lives to their fullest potentials, and she presents the wisdom that can help us do it.
This book is a gift that we’ve all been waiting for. Go on, don’t wait any longer. Find yourself, find your health, and find your truth.
“Sir, your wife is having a heart attack,” I heard the nurse say over the phone’s speaker. Even with the nurse stating this as a fact, it had not occurred to me this was the moment Joseph had been relentlessly studying for. I was experiencing sudden cardiac death; a fatal heart attack causing extensive heart damage! In fact, Joseph knew the symptoms pointed to the kind of heart attack that only about six percent of the population survives.
With this awareness, my confused, agitated, knowledgeable husband did not seem to be able to hold the rest of his thoughts together. “You can’t go to sleep,” he pointed out, aggressively. “The biggest reason people die from heart attacks is because they go to sleep instead of going to the doctor!”
Joseph picked up the motel’s phone again to call the hospital for an ambulance. Unable to focus on the address where we were staying, or even the motel’s name, he dropped the phone into its cradle, deciding it would be quicker to drive me down the street to the emergency room. He knew exactly where it was, after all, Joey and Johnny were both born there.
I was topless. I had taken off my clothes, thinking it would reduce my back pain. After he helped me into my pajamas, he told me to wait while he went to fill Mary [mother-in-law] in on the situation.
Suddenly, things seemed to be so normal to me. All the commotion of feeling sick left me, and so did the pain. I felt very childlike. I remembered seeing my world this way when I was very young, before I was capable of purposely moving a single muscle. What a strange thing to remember, I thought. To have this feeling and be able to walk instead of only attempt to move, as I did when I was a baby, fascinated me. I began to think, I must be dreaming. I watched myself put my shoes on to leave the room. At this point, I was not even real to myself anymore…
… I walked outside, my senses super sharp. This was ironic, considering I was now going on hours of my body having experienced reduced oxygen, including thirty-five minutes during which my body was severely deprived. I saw my son Joey’s face. He had that blank expression that goes along with a fight or flight observation before the brain processes what is before it. Mary stood in the door, grasping her cane, full of responsibility as Joseph gave her directions.
As for me, I felt like dancing. I had lost all concentration on anything other than my feet. I could feel a physical distance between my sight and my body, as though I was in two places at the same time, all while logically knowing I was still observing my own feet. The separation of my senses from my body became more apparent as I watched my eyes travel to gain a microscopic view, leaving my body behind.
Suddenly, I could see the asphalts’ atomic make-up with clarity. Even the space between the atoms was obvious. I was further distracted by my contemplation, viewing the pavement as if I was present for its life journey—when it was first poured, all its repairs and resurfacing—when a loud noise brought me back into reality.
The loud noise was my husband yelling. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be walking around!”
My thought: He’s angry that I’m having a heart attack. I looked up to see if I could see the stars, only to realize from the glow of the overhead lights that my astigmatism was now blocking my microscopic view. Only a moment earlier, I had experienced this microscopic view with fascination. I was confused as to why it was now gone.
He ordered me to get in the van as he jumped into the driver’s seat. I wondered why he was so focused on himself all the time. After all, if I was the one having the heart attack, why had he taken the time to smoke and talk to his mom? And why had he not helped me get into the van instead of yelling at me? And why was he being so impatient when I wanted to dance? On and on thoughts rambled in my head until we reached the first light.
I lost sight again. Without turning to him, I said, “The pain, it’s coming again.” I wished I had brought the trashcan with me. How did I not think to bring it? I was trained to be overly responsible, deeply ingrained with the need to always be prepared. This time, I had failed.
Instead of throwing up, I died.
Stolen from Sleep, A True Story
That spring night in Las Vegas had only a slight chill and require a light cover to sleep. As my husband, Joseph, crawled into bed and woke me up in the middle of the night, I felt unusually hot. I shoved the covers off and pushed them into the middle of the bed so he could use them. It left me sleeping with no protection other than my slip of a nightgown.
I woke just enough to notice a thin layer of sweat misting my body and wondered if I was getting sick. My husband mumbled something I couldn’t understand, which would usually wake me completely because I am a light sleeper, but this nigh was different. My head felt heavy and groggy—like I had been drugged.
I felt the bed move.
Instead of opening my eyes, I indolently rolled to my stomach, falling immediately back to sleep.
Later, the bed moved again.
My head shifted, but this time the movement was so jarring that I easily woke. My pillow slid out from under my cheek. I assumed Joseph must have taken my pillow by mistake, so I reached to grab it back. I raised my head to see Joseph on his stomach sound asleep, his head facing the wall away from me.
I was just about to fall back to sleep when I realized it wasn’t the pillow moving at all. It was me! I was sliding towards the end of the bed. Someone had a hold of my left ankle and was pulling me!
Oh, this has to be a prank, I thought. Maybe one of my teenagers or their friends were trying to pull some kind of prank. I jerked my foot up to see who had a hold of me. It wasn’t a who at all. It was a what!
Gripping my ankle was an oversized hand. The fingers were twice as long as the fingers on a human hand. The very thin finger bones were joined together by enlarged, bulbous joints. In the dim light of night, the entire hand was covered with tightly pulled dark, green and black, charred skin. I struggled to get a better look at my attacker, but it jerked me, making it impossible to look over my shoulder. My legs rose off the bed, into the air.
My throat suddenly seized. I gasped for air, but it was impossible to inhale even a single breath.
Desperate, I panicked and fought against the strength of the creature, my attempts to call out for help reminding me of the useless calls I made in my most tragic, blood curdling dreams—the kind when I would scream with all my might, yet no sound would come out.
The creature continued to pull as I was being moved against my will. I reached for my sleeping husband, clawing at the sheets and frantic to wake him. When my hands passed over his legs, I couldn’t find my grasp. It was as if my fingers were forbidden to close around his form. I flailed my arms and kicked my legs, still attempting to scream or even take a breath. If I could just break free, I could wake Joseph, and he could help me. He was the brave one. He was the protector.
My panic had reached a state of being manic as my attacker held me by one ankle in the air over my bed. Its super human strength seemed impossible and added to my terror. Knowing I was being abducted, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, made me feel so frightened, I wondered if my heart might explode.
The creature suddenly lifted me through the roof of my house.
Yep, right out the roof.
I saw the attic as I passed through the insulation and the air ducts, and then the roofing tiles passed before I could comprehend I was out in the open air.
Wait, if I passed through the roof without feeling it . . . then I am okay. This is just an out of body experience. Aw, heck!
I had been out of my body many times before, so this realization put an immediate halt to my terror. There I was, dangling, arms flailing, my ankle in the grasp of this being, rising over the roof of my house and into the air.
Now able to relax and no longer afraid, I could actually enjoy the view. I was pleased to be gliding through the sky on a grand adventure.
The event took a sudden anti climactic turn when the being put me down on the ground. I was down the street about 15 houses from mine. I had to squint as the brightness of the morning sun proved to be too much of a sudden assault on my eyes.
The clarity I had experienced while first gliding in the air was gone and the heavy drugged feeling was back again. It seemed as time had passed, but I didn’t know how—pieces of my memory were missing. On top of that, I had no idea how to get back to my house. Eventually, I passed out and woke to my alarm which signaled it was time to get the kids ready for school.
Under some sort of fascination, I animatedly recounted the entire event for Joseph when he awoke. It was amazing to me that he was completely unaware of my entire experience having happened right next to him. The experience was so extreme and true to life, I checked his legs to make sure there weren’t any claw marks on them.
“Surprisingly, this was one of the better night’s sleeps I have had in a long time. How do you feel?” Joseph asked. “Any feelings of drugs left in your system?” Fortunately for me, it was never an issue whether he would believe me or not, thank God. He went on to share his own information about sleep paralysis and other paranormal things he had watched on television. He often stayed up after I went to sleep, and late night shows about the paranormal and the unusual were in abundance.
I was relieved that my entire tale had made sense to him.
That would have been the end of my story if I had felt safe. However, even though my experience had ended peacefully enough, it took me two days to shake my extreme fears of being kidnapped.
I found myself afraid to have the curtains open, certain that someone was watching me. I stayed in without running any errands. When out of the house, a feeling of unmanageable vulnerability overcame me, and drove me back indoors. My ability to concentrate was gone and I feared someone could, at any moment, take me against my will.
Loud sounds gave me flashbacks to unclear memories, which led to feelings of unexplainable fears. I had to consider that I had actually been abducted, held against my will.
I hadn’t had any reference to indicate how long I had been gone other than the rising sun that illuminated the sky when I had been released blocks from my home. That meant I hadn’t been set back down immediately. It had to have been hours later. The only way I was able to cope with these uneasy feelings was to ‘switched off’ emotionally. Every seeming predatory behavior by anyone around me evoked deep sensations of anger and injustice.
Just when I was finally starting to feel okay, I got an odd call from a friend named Alita. (Her name has been changed to protect her identity.)
She seemed excited and confused when she said, “Christine, I just heard you were taken from your bed the other night to face the ancestral council. They didn’t even return you to your bed!” She paused, “That’s not like them. Are you okay?”
Alita was not any ordinary friend; she claimed to be from a “special” and ancient bloodline. When she started speaking about her people, her ancestors, I had always left the conversation, not out of disinterest, but I intuitively felt the need to safeguard her privacy, and I didn’t want to go snooping around in something that wasn’t my business.
This time was different. I wanted to know everything, but couldn’t bring myself to ask a single question.
I stood with my mouth open, not knowing what to say. The only other person who knew about the incident and the trauma I experienced was Joseph, and he hadn’t shared my story with a single soul! How could Alita know all of this unless . . .
Alita spoke to fill the silence. “Look, I know it’s scary. I told them not to take you because you are intuitive and would know, but they didn’t listen. They just wanted to make sure you were genuine. They’re just trying to protect my brother and me from other humans. I am so sorry. I made them promise it would never happen again.”
I was frozen in disbelief. How could all of this be real?
But then again, how was she able to describe the creature’s hands to me as if she had seen them with her own eyes? She even knew that the grasp felt like dry ice on my body, something I hadn’t even told Joseph.
I had to make myself forget. I had to push this from my mind or I might never feel safe again. After all, I had been kidnapped, taken right out of my bed in the middle of the night.
About the Author:
Diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis age 30. – GONE!
Heart attack, age 37. No oxygen flowing through the body for 45 minutes. – DIED!
Revived, but professionals declared she would live in a vegetative state. NO WAY!
Christine Contini is a living miracle. After a massive heart attack left her without hope of recovery, the doctors informed her family that she would live the remainder of her life in a vegetative state.
The medical professionals are still baffled as to how Christine not only defied death, but came back to full consciousness and was able to work her own way back to her divine health. Through her own pursuit of studies, she also completely freed herself from multiple sclerosis.
Christine was raised Catholic and had no previous knowledge of the esoteric world. However, during the heart attack, Christine had a Near-Death Experience (NDE) which gave her access to the understanding of how energy works. The knowledge she received was unparalleled in her daily existence. As a result, her ability to assist others in healing both the energetic patterns and physical ailments that had often challenged them for years was first born.
Christine is a healer, a speaker, a teacher, and the author of Death – Awakening to Life (the first of three books) in which she shares her amazing story and the knowledge she received after returning from beyond the veil. She leads “The STUDY”– groups for people who want to take their understanding of how to heal themselves far beyond the book; and she offers 5-day, 2-week, and 30-day programs for people who want to go deeper in their own personal process to create real and lasting change.
1 autographed copy of Death: Awakening to Life
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