I may be confused about everything else, but I am quite sure about that one statement. One can not kick the bucket the way I did and not be quite damned sure that one is dead.
One moment I was walking along, my life proceding as (ab)normally as could be expected, and then *WHAM*... I was gazing in shock at the body that used to be me .
I do not know how long I stood there...or rather how long my ghost hovered there... gaping at my soul's previous residence. It was quite a while I believe. Finally I felt the inexorable pull of a force, faintly at first but growing stronger with every moment that I lingered besides my body. I rather reluctantly gave up my vigil over my ex-self and began to drift along, letting the unseen power pull me to whatever destiny awaited me in the next 'life'.
And here I am. Dead. Yes, you would think I would have gotten used to it by now. Apparently I'm not adjusting to the grieving process very well. My current surroundings are not improving my mood much either.
I am...how can I explain where I am? It is nothing that any living person can experience or understand. I am surrounded by a some-how familiar white, as far the my non-existent eyes can see. It's rather disconcerting, and yet peaceful as well. The very embodiment of 'the white light' which near-death survivors are forever describing... except I somehow doubt that a giant spiral staircase belonged in any of those descriptions.
It hovers before me, the only thing that breaks the comforting monotony of the whiteness. An elegantly carved spiral staircase that would grace even the most exquisite of palaces, it stetches above me and below me leading to nowhere.
And here I stare and wait.
I will have to make a choice eventually.
Heaven or hell, future or past, dreams or memories... up or down.
candidate 65