My public figure is Katherine. nearly of you would cry me a ghost, or perhaps an angel. I am you see, what virtually someone call `` dead ''. In fact, today is my funeral. I had n't really planned on dying. I 'm only 21 years old. I had just returned from the leaping formal dance. I had barely entered the threshold of the sorority mansion when I started feeling ill. My head started throbbing. The way started to swirl as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my rear. I was on a table in a brightly lit room. several men and women in infirmary uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting pass supply. In spite of the bright sparkle, the room seemed to be filled with an supernal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a boring, stiff, almost phantasmagorical fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the board, and followed one of the physician ( I assumed they were doctors ) out of the way through a set of treble doors. I do n't really know why I did this. It just seemed the matter to do. Somehow I felt that there was an response waiting for me if I followed.

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another door into a small waiting way. My female parent and Church Father were the only ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the medico, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to recognize them, overjoyed to see familiar spirit faces. `` What are you doing here ? What 's happened ? Where are we ? ``

They looked right through me as if I was n't even there. Instead, they turned to the doctor. The feeling on their faces was one of anxiety and fear.

Without waiting for the motion that was written on their faces, the doctor spoke.

'' Mr. and Mrs. Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a John R. Major cerebral aneurisim. In layperson 's terms, a weak section in one of the major artery in her brain swelled and burst. There was zippo we could do. Your girl is bushed. ``

At those give-and-take my female parent went white, then collapsed, sobbing, on my beginner, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

My first thoughts were `` What kind of bad trick is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm stagnant when I am obviously standing right in strawman of them plain as the olfactory organ on your face ? ``

After a few minutes, my female parent composed herself enough to utter. `` I want to see her. I want to see my baby ''

'' Certainly '' said the Dr. `` If you feel you are up to it, I will use up you to her. ``

My parents rose slowly and with a cadaver, robot like manner of walking followed the physician back through the double doorway and down the G. Stanley Hall from which I had just minutes before emerged. They turned into a room marked `` emergency ICU - A ''

I recognized the room as the one from which I had emerged into the dormitory when I had first followed the doctor. The room was vacant of medical checkup staff now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the shopping centre of the room, under a promising overhead light, was a mesa on which lay a female manakin, covered with a thin white sheet. I began to have a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. For the first base time the idea entered my nous that maybe this was no joke.

But it had to be. How could I be lying there covered with a sheet and standing here watching at the Same meter ? It must be a mistake. They will pull down the sheet and it will be someone else. It had to be someone else !

My parents followed the doctor, hesitatingly, to the tabular array. Gently, the doctor folded down the sheet.

There I was. I was standing here, but I was also lying on the table. The me on the table was still dressed in the pink satin dress I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My nous raced, grasping for any shard of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How soul near decease felt themselves leave their own physical structure. Usually there was a voice telling them to go back because they had more to do with their life. I was only xxi. I certainly had more to do. I had almost a whole life ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't see any part. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the mesa, merge back into my soundbox and ignite up. The physician will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll spend a few days in the hospital and go on with my life.

I did n't really consider about how one climbs back into single own body. I just went over to the tabular array and lay down. I closed my middle and placed my arms in the Same place as the self on the table. I opened my centre expecting to see the surprised expressions. But dad just continued to gaze disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my hair and sobbing, just as before.

Finally they turned away and the doctor covered my aspect with the sheet.

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not dead '' I flailed by arms, kicked my legs and screamed again. But all my efforts went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was inconspicuous and inaudible to the world I knew. I really was dead.

By the time of my viewing I had still not fully accepted the melodic theme of being all in. The funeral home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the opinion of being on show, but I was rummy to see what they had done with me.

A bunch had already gathered when we arrived. I followed my parents into the place, passing through the crowd unnoticed. The elbow room where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low tabular array. It was glowing shining Caucasian with gold handles and trim. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the weightiness of a realism I did not yet want to accept. I also knew I had to look. Slowly, I stepped up to the casket.

I gazed at the dream-like scene before me. The other me, the me that lay in the casket, was dressed as for her wedding. Mom had promised me her bridal nightdress for my wedding. Instead, she had given it to me for my interment. A lily-white veil covered my face like a exquisitely mist. A large fragrance of calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to focus on the peaceful look, my face, beneath the head covering. My battlefield of vision seemed to constringe, as if, without taking a step, I was moving closer and tight to the face within the coffin. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the foggy embryonic membrane that covered my face. I felt the cool satin of my wedding garb turned burial gown. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my casket close all around. I remembered seeing a horror pic once about a woman being locked into a casket by some lunatic. The paradigm was of a casket as a prison, locking her interior. But now that did n't seem right at all. I felt as if I was in a rubber, tender bed ; not a prison, but instead a perfective tense shelter from the world.

I became mindful of multitude passing by. Some paused but a moment then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the casket, seemingly lost in their thinking. I could hear whisper orison. While I could not understand the words somehow I knew the Good Book were unimportant. The dear they represented seemed to accept form as a shimmering lighter that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon wave of the assuredness silver light surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overpowering radiance. I felt both a growing lightness and a sense of total heartsease greater than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever mellow, deeper into the light.

Then all went black. I felt as if a mountain had crushed down on my soul. I opened my eyes and the light was gone. I was standing in the visitation elbow room of the funeral habitation. All my booster and kinsperson were gone. The funeral director was fastening the latches on my now closed casket.

This morning I rode in the hearse as they carried me to church. I watched as they placed my casket on the bier at the front and placed the efflorescence all around. All the guests have arrived. The church is packed. I never realized how many multitude cared about me.

The inspection and repair is just beginning but already I see a putz of the ethereal luminance surrounding my jewel casket. It is already stronger and undimmed than at my backwash. I suppose that is because everyone is praying together. I know that all I have to do is step into the luminousness and surrender to it and I will be swept away to somewhere fantastic beyond imagining.

I know what will fall out here. In a little while the Robert William Service will be over. They will extend me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will drive me to the cemetery, say a few appropriate words, and then they will glower me into the grave that even now is loose and waiting.

If I stay I fear the blackness will amount crashing down as they shovel the earth over me. I feel the sparkle reaching out. I sense its ataraxis. Its time for me to go .