A friend asked me a few minutes ago if I had any memories of a profound experience from those dead moments. The truth is--no, I don't. I cannot recall any specifics of a near-death experience, as much as I'd like to be able to. What I can say, though, is that the experience totally removed from me any fear of death. That doesn't mean that I'm eager to die, or that I'm not reluctant to experience a painful demise; however, the idea of being dead no longer disturbs me. My only worry, I think, is my fear of dying without having done the things I'd like to do for those whom I love; any trepidations I have about dying revolve around leaving my loved ones unprepared for their own lives to continue as comfortably as possible.
That's probably true for many of us, actually; it's how our deaths affect those who go on living that concern us as much as the art of dying.
But no stories from me about bright lights, out-of-body experiences, etc. I do recall a bright light, but that was the ceiling light in the ambulance, which was shining in my eyes quite intently when the paramedics finally brought me back (they said that my eyes had dilated quite a bit during those minutes, which is why a routine vehicle ceiling light seemed so bright). Nothing mystical or profound there... but the experience was strangely comforting, because I felt remarkably peaceful about the prospect of dying.