Last May, Teresa Wren’s life nearly ended in three brief flashes.
First, she remembers waking up in the middle of the night. She felt hot. So she stood up, turned down the air conditioner in her Columbia home and went back to bed.
In the next scene, it was morning. Her husband, Charles, was standing at the bedroom door. “Are you going to get up?” he asked. Teresa didn’t respond.
Her final vision was her daughter, Lexi, standing over her — just for a moment. Then black.