<p>&quot;I don&rsquo;t remember hearing any snorts or whinnies. I don&rsquo;t remember smelling the sweat streaming off the newly unsaddled backs or seeing the dust kicked up by the drumming hooves. The only thing I remember was me my essence my soul popping out of my body several seconds before it was caught up in a stampede. I didn&rsquo;t feel my arm caught in the stirrup or sense the impact of the horse&rsquo;s body as he twisted me around and slammed me with his head. I watched myself cry out as I got squished between the other horses&rsquo; flanks.</p><p></p><p>Nor did I feel anything as my skull smashed into the concrete feed trough before I collapsed unmoving. The total calm and serenity that I the observer felt was a stark contrast to my screaming human form. I wondered if everyone disconnected like this before they died?</p><p></p><p>As the dust settled I looked down at the empty crumpled shell. I knew I would never get up again. The whole event only lasted about 30 seconds.&quot;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>So writes Lesley Joan Lupo in a fascinating account of her near-death experience and her trip &lsquo;Upstairs&rsquo; to the realm beyond space and time. Remember&nbsp;<em>Every Breath is Precious: Dying Taught Me How to Live</em>gives us a glimpse of what might await us all beyond our physical lives.&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>