A little about me. I'm around 50 years old now. Critical thinker, not religious. Anyway... I was 11 years old and my brother was 7. We lived with our mother in a mobile-home park on the edge of a small city, and were next to large swaths of farmland. It was summer time. No school, no responsibilities. Just an awesome time to be a kid. One summer evening, after a day of childhood fun, my brother and I retired to my bedroom and climbed into bed. My brother had his own room but we often slept together and would recant the various adventures we had experienced that day. Again, we were close. I was against the wall and my brother was on my right toward the open room. The sun had gone down and a bright silvery moon shown brightly through the one window. My room was awash in moonlight. Not super bright, but you could make out most objects in the room. We were talking about whatever young boys talk about around that age; being able to fly, super human strength, how we got chased out of the field by the farmer...kid stuff. I was in the middle of talking when I suddenly felt a sharp, painful jab in my ribs. My brother had elboed me on my right side. "Look," he said quietly. "Look at what?" I asked. "Look!" he said again, quietly, but with a tinge of urgency; enough to subdue my urge to unleash a brotherly beating. I rolled over on my right side and slightly propped myself up with my right arm so I could "look" at whatever he was talking about. He was pointing toward the closet. The closet was a two-door slider. Both sides were pushed to the right exposing the contents due to the silver glow from the moon light; a small dresser was inside with my clothes on hangers above. I couldn't see anything unusual and was about to roll back over. And then...I saw something...in the closet. A mist of sorts. It was faint but getting thicker and more visible. We watched as the mist filled the open side of the closet and became more opaque. The mist was falling down the open closet and across the bedroom floor. The air in the room began to cool. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually pleasant after having such a warm day. The mist kept billowing down the closet opening and eventually covered the entire floor and to the bed. It was, perhaps, 6" to 10" high. I leaned over my brother and stretched my hand down over him toward the floor and into the mist. I could feel it. Cold. Wet. I twirled my hand slightly and the mist swirled around from the movement. It was real. The silence was broken when my brother told me to to look toward the closet again. I looked up. The small opening of the closet visually expanded to a large vast area of gentle rolling hills with tall grass flowing from a breeze. I would describe it as prairie land for those familiar with that type of landscape. It was still made of mist but it was high-def, so to speak. My brother and I gazed at the expanse. We were completely enthralled to what we were witnessing. The silence was broken once again when my little brother asked me a simple question. "Are you scared?" "No." I answered calmly and confidently. "Are you?" I asked. "No." He whispered. We continued to look at the landscape. At the horizon of the rolling hills and waving grass something was approaching. It was difficult to make out at first, but as it got closer we could pick out details easier. We could see...people. People were walking over the landscape...toward us. Lots, of people. Thousands of people. Eventually they walked to about what looked like about 15 to 20 feet away from us and stopped. A line of people from left to right as far as you could see and rows upon rows behind them. They were talking to each other but we heard no sound. They were happy. Jovial. Peaceful. And, they were dressed in clothing from the many eras throughout history. Pin-striped suites from the 1920's, togas and draped of clothing from the time of Plato and Socrates, dresses and shirts and pants from times past. Men, women, children. Then, in one grand instant, they all stopped talking to each other and focused their eyes on my brother and me. My brother and I stared back, waiting for whatever was next to occur. A figure broke rank and moved out in front of everyone else. But, he/she more like floated instead of walked. Hard to tell because the figure was wearing a long hooded robe that went down to the ground. The face was slightly visible but to this day I cannot say with certainly if it was male or female. The figure came closer to us and stopped at what looked like just a foot or two inside the closet area. The mass of people kept staring, completely silent. Then the robbed figure raised its arm and hand straight toward us. The hand was visible but the arm was covered with the robe. Its index finger was pointing toward us. It came forward slightly more and stopped. I looked towards the face of the figure. Complete peacefulness engulfed me. I leaned over my brother and streched out my hand and index finger as far as I could. The robbed figure floated closer and actually entered my room slightly, hand outstretched, finger pointed. I kept my hand held outward, finger pointed. Our fingers almost touched. I kept staring at the face inside the hood. A moment passed with our arms stretched forward. The figure never spoke but it was at this moment that the message I got was... Everything is okay. No need to worry little child. Everything is okay. And then...the figure lowered his/her/its arm and slowly floated backward to where the othere were standing. Still silent. Still looking at me and my brother. Then, the figure and all the other thousands of people began fading away. As soon as they were gone the hills and swaying grass disappeared, and then the mist along the floor and inside of the closet vanished. The temperature of the room quickly warmed up and, it was over. My brother and I talked about the experience that night after it ended. I don't remember our conversation but I can say for certainty, we weren't afraid. We fell asleep that night and never spoke about it again. Not sure why. I surmised later that we didn't speak about because we didn't need to. Well, let me clarify the above statement. We didn't speak about it to each other until I was 17 and he was 13. My brother came up to me one day and, very intense, asked me, "Do you remember when we lived in that mobile home a long time ago?" "Yes." I replied. "Do you remember seeing something in your closet one time?" "Maybe." I said coyly, I but I knew exactly what he was talking about. This was my opportunity to listen to him and perhaps solidify what I remember and what I think I experienced. And so, he told me the story as he remembered it and it matched almost perfectly with what I remembered. We were so excited to hear each other talk about it again. Then, we went to our mother and told her everything. She told us that she wished we had talked to her about this back then because some strange things happened when lived in that mobile home. Anyway, I still don't know exactly what to think about what happened. I've told the story to a handful of people over the years. The religious ones almost immediately say, "Oh my gosh! It must have been Jesus!" Makes me chuckle a bit. As an agnostic, I cannot attest with certainty one way or another. But, I do lean toward it not being Jesus. Other people think it's pure bull****. Or, explain it away as a hallucination or dream that I must have told my brother at some point in time. One of the most nagging questuons I have is, WHY? Why did we experience that. Did the afterlife spirits get the wrong house? My brother and I never preached about our experience. This experience is one of the biggest reasons I can't be a part of any religion because the message I received was that it doesn't matter. Maybe there is an afterlife. Maybe there isn't. Believe it. Don't believe it. Doesn't matter to me. Comments? Anyone have a similar experience?