A Scent of Angels: Falling into a Tonic Clonic Seizure

First, comes the scent---the Angels are present. Next comes the fall, and I feel a brushing of wings, growing stronger, more intense until my breath seems to fail me.

Then, comes the darkness. When they are gone, I struggle. The darkness is like a weight, pressing heavily upon me, and I must fight to push it off of me, so that I may surface, and rejoin the world.

The One Who Loves Me touches my face and washes me with water, or is it tears? I yearn, but cannot know until I am back among the living. I have suffered a little death.

A little E.