My story isnt as good, I dont think I was actually dead. December 30, 1987 me and couple of friends stole a bottle of Jack Daniels from my friends dads liquor stash and went off into the woods. It was really cold with about 6 inches of snow on the ground. As it turns out, JD doesnt really appeal to a bunch of 100 pound 13 y/o's, but me and my one friend felt it necessary to drink as much of the bottle as possible.
I dont know much about what happened afterwards but I somehow managed to attempt to walk home and didnt make it. Luckily, some woman was letting her dog out or picking up the morning paper and noticed a dark mass lying in the snow in the field next to her house. She called the cops, who in turn called emt's to make sure I was still alive. I had fallen and passed out in the snow, for whatever reason my jacket was up around my chest leaving most of my scrawny torso exposed to the elements.
I woke up in the hospital about 20 hours later with my parents standing over me crying. Not a good feeling. The doctor told me my body temperature had dropped several degrees, my stomach had to be pumped and my BAC was right around .40, which is pretty much coma territory. He told me and my parents that the one thing that kept me alive was the snow, it had sort of preserved me in a way.