Julie Poole, a woman who claims to have “died and spent three days in heaven,” has been sharing the profound and chilling messages she received from what she describes as “angelic beings” in a “higher realm.” Her story begins at 21 when, overwhelmed by years of emotional, physical, mental, and sexual abuse, she attempted suicide by overdosing on medication. What followed, according to Poole, was not the end of her life but a transformative experience that has shaped her beliefs and career as a spiritual guide.
After her overdose, Poole describes being “dead” for three days, during which time she visited what she calls the “higher realm.” There, she says she was greeted by spiritual beings, who were not only her guides but also messengers of mankind’s future. Among these beings was a “white shimmery figure” who enlightened her with visions of what was to come for humanity. According to Poole, these otherworldly beings revealed to her that she wasn’t destined to die that day, even though she believed she was ready to leave the pain of her life behind. They told her, “It’s not your time,” and sent her back to her earthly body, but not without a clear message: she would return to the higher realm at the age of 67.
Now in her early 60s, Poole says that she only has a few years left to live, based on this prophetic message. She continues to share the lessons she received during her time “in heaven,” claiming that these revelations were meant to guide humanity toward a more enlightened future. One of the key messages she received was about the purpose of her own suffering. According to Poole, the spirits told her that before she was born, she had chosen a life filled with hardship in order to “clear karma” from previous lives. Despite their warnings that such a life would be difficult, she accepted the challenge, believing it was a necessary step in balancing her spiritual debts.
“They warned me it would be too hard and too overwhelming,” Poole recalls. “But I chose this life anyway. And now here I was at 21, trying to check out… and they had to heal me enough to send me back.” The spirits emphasized to her that part of her mission in life was to forgive—herself and others—because forgiveness, they said, is one of the highest vibrational forms of love.
In addition to her personal journey of healing and forgiveness, Poole was also given a glimpse of what she calls the “Golden Age” for humanity, a future era of peace, equality, and spiritual awakening. She was told that this age was already in progress and would occur between 2012 and 2032. According to Poole, this Golden Age would bring an end to the power struggles, corruption, and control that have defined human history for millennia. “The beings told me that for so long, power and control had been concentrated in the hands of a few, while the masses were left to suffer under this imbalance,” she explains. “But in the Golden Age, all that is false and corrupt will fall away, and humanity will experience true equality.”
Poole’s guides told her that the shift toward this Golden Age would not be marked by dramatic cataclysms or “Armageddon” but would instead involve the gradual unraveling of the systems that have oppressed humanity. “This isn’t about the end of the world,” Poole says. “It’s about the end of the old ways. The power structures that have stifled human potential will crumble, and people will be free to live with greater truth, love, and fairness.”
She also claims that individuals like herself—those who have had near-death experiences or spiritual awakenings—are being sent back to Earth with a mission: to share these messages of hope and help humanity transition into this new era. Poole says her role is to help others understand the significance of the changes ahead and to encourage them to embrace forgiveness and compassion as tools for personal and collective healing.
But Poole’s revelations don’t stop there. She also believes that extraterrestrial beings play a key role in this transformative period for humanity. According to her, “ETs,” or beings of light, have been visiting Earth for many years, helping humanity in ways that most people are not aware of. These extraterrestrial beings, Poole says, are far more advanced than humans—technologically, spiritually, and in every other way. She insists that they have been closely monitoring humanity’s progress and will intervene if necessary to prevent global catastrophes.
One specific example Poole gives is the potential threat of nuclear warfare. She claims that if world leaders ever become “trigger-happy” with nuclear weapons, these advanced extraterrestrial beings will step in to stop it. “They will not let us blow ourselves up,” Poole asserts. “They will not let us destroy this planet. They will step in if we push things too far.”
While Poole’s claims are certainly extraordinary, they have also earned her a following. She has built a career as a “spiritual master” and life coach, helping people navigate their own journeys of healing and personal growth. Through her YouTube channel and other platforms, Poole continues to share her story and the insights she believes she received during her near-death experience.
Now in her early 60s and with only a few years left before the age she was told she would return to the higher realm, Poole remains focused on her spiritual mission. She believes that her purpose on Earth is to prepare others for the coming changes, helping them to release old patterns of fear, anger, and division, and embrace a higher vibration of love and forgiveness.
As she reflects on her life and the messages she received, Poole is clear on one thing: the future of humanity, while uncertain, holds great promise. She remains convinced that the Golden Age is near, and she feels privileged to have been given a glimpse of it during her time in the higher realm. For Julie Poole, the lessons of her near-death experience continue to shape her life and guide her work as she prepares for whatever comes next—both in this world and the next.
I Planned to Reclaim My Father’s Inheritance That Was Left to a Stranger Until a Family Secret Changed Everything — Story of the Day
I thought my father’s will would secure my future. Then the lawyer read a name I didn’t recognize. My grandmother’s fury was immediate. Who was Brenna, and why did my father leave her everything? And what secret was behind it?
My life used to always be governed by rules. Every morning, a strict voice echoed through the house.
“Sit up straight, Mona. Don’t slouch. A lady always keeps her composure.”
That was Loretta—my grandmother, my guardian, my shadow. After my mother died, she took over, raising me in her grand image.
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Everything had to be perfect. My grades, my posture, and even the way I folded napkins. It was exhausting, but I tried. I always tried.
When my father passed away, Loretta quickly turned her focus to what mattered most to her. Control. But I remember the day my life changed. We were sitting in the lawyer’s office.
“You’ll invest the money wisely, Mona,” she had said that morning, already outlining how we would rebuild the family’s legacy. “Your father worked hard for this.”
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I believed her. For years, Loretta’s confidence had been unshakable, her plans infallible. So, as we sat in that cold office with its stale coffee, I felt sure of my future.
“As per your father’s wishes,” he lawyer, glancing at the will, “his estate and money will go to Brenna.”
“Who!?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
The lawyer paused. “Brenna is your father’s other daughter.”
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“Sister? I… I have a sister?”
“Impossible!” Loretta’s sharp voice ricocheted off the walls. “This must be a mistake! My son couldn’t leave everything to some stranger!”
“It’s no mistake, ma’am,” the lawyer said. “Your son provided clear instructions. Brenna inherits the house, accounts, and stocks.”
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“What?” Loretta’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “You’re telling me that child, someone we don’t even know, takes it all?”
I barely heard them. A sister. A sister I never knew existed. Loretta’s hand gripped mine, pulling me back.
“We’ll fix this, Mona. We’ll find this Brenna and make sure she does what’s right.”
Her words felt suffocating, but I nodded. Defying Loretta had never been an option.
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***
In a few days, I arrived at Brenna’s house due to Grandma’s instructions. The small house leaned slightly to one side, its peeling paint flaking like sunburned skin.
The front door creaked open before I even knocked, and Brenna stood there, smiling wide. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, her fingers twisting together in a rhythm that seemed more instinct than thought.
“Hi!” she said, her voice bright, almost musical. “I saw you coming. Did you park by the mailbox? It’s wobbly. I keep meaning to fix it, but…”
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She trailed off, her eyes darting to the corner of the doorframe. She tapped it three times with her knuckles.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied awkwardly. “I’m Mona. Your sister.”
“Come in!” she interrupted, stepping aside but not making eye contact. “Watch the floorboard near the kitchen. It squeaks.”
Inside, the house smelled faintly of clay and earth. The narrow hallway opened into a kitchen dominated by a long workbench covered in half-finished pottery pieces, jars of paint, and tools I didn’t recognize.
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Brenna rearranged a set of mismatched vases on the windowsill three times, muttering under her breath before nodding in satisfaction.
Then she turned back to me, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. “You’re my sister.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure how to navigate her openness. “Our father… He passed away recently.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “What’s it like? Having a dad?”
“It’s… hard to say. He was kind. He cared. We were friends.”
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She nodded, her fingers twitching against her thighs. “I never met him. But I have his hands.” She held up her palms, showing faint traces of clay. “Mom always said so. Big hands, like him.”
Her sincerity was disarming. I’d expected resentment or at least suspicion, but instead, she radiated a quiet acceptance.
“Dad left me a gift,” Brenna said.
“A gift?” I repeated. “That’s… nice.”
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“Yes. He called it that. In the letter from the lawyer. Did he leave you a gift too?”
I hesitated, Loretta’s biting words ringing in my ears. “Not really. He didn’t…”
“That’s strange. Everyone should get a gift.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“You should stay for a week,” Brenna said smiling. “You can tell me about him. What he was like. What he liked to eat. What his voice sounded like.”
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“A week?” I asked, startled. “I don’t know if…”
“In return,” she interrupted, “I’ll share the gift. It’s only fair.” Her hands were twisting together as she waited for my response.
“I don’t know if I have much to say about him,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I felt the pang of their untruth. “But… okay. A week.”
Her face lit up. “Good. We can have pancakes. Only if you like them, though.”
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She turned back to her workbench, humming softly. I knew what her so-called “gift” was. At that moment, Loretta’s plan seemed simple. Too simple. But Brenna’s kindness was already complicating everything.
***
That week at Brenna’s house, I felt like stepping into a parallel universe, one where the world spun slower and expectations melted away. Everything about her life was so unlike mine.
Breakfast was no longer a croissant from the corner bakery paired with a sleek latte. Instead, it was simple—bacon, eggs, and a mug of tea served on paper plates.
“Easier this way,” Brenna said one morning. “No big cleanup. Time saved is time for pottery.”
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She had a way of saying things so directly, without the filters most people wore. It was disarming.
But her habit of setting and resetting the plates on the porch rail, always ensuring they were aligned right, made me watch her closely. Each ritual told a story.
“Let’s walk to the lake,” she suggested after breakfast on my second morning.
She slipped out of her sandals, leaving them neatly by the porch steps, and stepped into the grass barefoot.
“It’s better like this.”
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Dew clung to the grass, cold and sharp against my feet, as I followed her. She led the way, occasionally pausing to touch the leaves or to rearrange a small pile of stones along the path.
Those small, deliberate actions seemed to calm her like they were as necessary as breathing.
At the lake, she crouched by the edge, dipping her fingers into the water. “You ever just sit and listen?”
“To what?” I asked, standing stiffly behind her.
“Everything.”
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Brenna’s studio became the heart of our days. The air inside smelled earthy and damp, the scent of clay and creativity.
She handed me a lump of clay on the third day. “Here. Try making something.”
My first attempt was a disaster. The clay slid through my fingers, collapsing into a shapeless blob.
“It’s terrible,” I groaned, ready to throw it aside.
“It’s not terrible,” Brenna’s hands moved gently as she began reshaping the clay, showing me the motions. “It’s just new. New things take time.”
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Her patience amazed me. Even when I spilled water on her workbench, smearing one of her finished pieces, she didn’t scold me. Instead, she carefully cleaned the mess.
Just as I started to relax, finally free from Loretta’s constant control, her calls became more frequent. It was as if she could sense the shift in me, the way I was beginning to breathe a little easier and live a little differently.
That night, her voice came through the line sharp. “Mona, what are you waiting for? This isn’t a vacation! You need to take action. She doesn’t know what to do with that kind of money.”
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I stayed silent, but my grip on the phone tightened. I could feel her impatience boiling over.
“She’s naïve, Mona. You need to convince her to sign it over. If persuasion doesn’t work, then… Well, figure something out. Use her trust if you have to.”
Her words stung because they felt so wrong in Brenna’s world.
“I don’t know, Grandma. It’s not as simple as you think.”
“It’s exactly that simple,” she barked back. “Don’t get distracted by her little quirks. Focus, Mona.”
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I wanted to argue, to tell her that maybe Brenna deserved more than she realized, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I mumbled something vague and ended the call. For the first time in my life, I started questioning my own motives.
***
The following day, Loretta arrived unannounced, her sharp presence tearing through the peace like a storm. Her heels clicked on the uneven floor as she stepped into the house.
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“This is where you’ve been hiding?” she snapped, her eyes darting over Brenna’s neatly cluttered pottery studio. “How can you stand this mess, Mona? And you,” she turned to Brenna, “you have no right to what’s been given to you.”
Brenna froze, her hands trembling as she rearranged vases on the workbench, muttering, “Gift, gift,” under her breath.
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Loretta ignored her, turning to me. “Mona, end this nonsense. She doesn’t deserve your father’s legacy. She’s…” Loretta’s voice grew venomous, “not like us.”
“Gift,” Brenna said louder, pointing toward a small cabinet in the corner. Her rocking grew more pronounced, her fingers twisting at her apron.
I hesitated but opened the cabinet. Inside was a stack of old letters, their edges worn and faded. Each one was addressed to my father. My breath caught.
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“What are those?” Loretta demanded.
“These are from Brenna’s mother,” I said, flipping through them. “Did you know?”
Loretta paled, but then her face hardened. “I did what I had to! Do you think I’d let some woman trap my son with a broken child? When she came looking for him, I told her to stay away. I refused to let her and her daughter become part of this family.”
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Her words were cruel, and Brenna clung to the table, her wide eyes fixed on Loretta.
“You destroyed this family,” I said, my voice trembling. “You never even told him he had another daughter.”
Loretta’s bitter laugh filled the room. “He found out! That’s why he changed his will. And now you’re letting her take everything!”
“Dad left a gift,” Brenna said softly. “He wanted me to have it.”
“This isn’t about money, Grandma. And I won’t let you take anything else from her.”
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Loretta stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
I turned to Brenna. “I’m so sorry. I love you, sis.”
“Do you want pancakes?” she suddenly asked as if nothing happened.
“Oh, I really do!”
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We ate on the porch as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in soft hues. From that day, we started building a life together.
I helped Brenna grow her pottery studio. We repaired the house, filled it with flowers, and I rediscovered my love for painting by decorating her creations.
Word spread, and soon people came from other towns to buy our work. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. For the first time, I wasn’t living to meet someone else’s expectations. I was living for us—Brenna and me.
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