My epithet is Katherine. Most of you would call me a ghost, or perhaps an angel. I am you see, what most someone call `` dead ''. In fact, today is my funeral. I had n't really planned on dying. I 'm only 21 yr old. I had just returned from the springiness evening gown dancing. I had barely entered the door of the sorority house 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 cover. I was on a table in a brightly lit way. various men and woman in hospital uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting pass supplying. In malice of the bright twinkle, the elbow room seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a slow, stiff, almost surreal fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

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

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another threshold into a small waiting room. My female parent and father were the sole ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to greet them, overjoyed to see conversant 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 MD. The look on their faces was one of anxiousness and fear.

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

'' Mr. and Mrs. Johnson ? Please sit down. Your girl suffered a major cerebral aneurisim. In secular 's damage, a imperfect section in one of the major arteries in her brain swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your daughter is dead. ``

At those Good Book my mother went white, then collapsed, sobbing, on my father, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

My first thoughts were `` What kind of bad joke is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm dead when I am obviously standing right in social movement of them plain as the olfactory organ on your grimace ? ``

After a few minutes, my mother composed herself enough to utter. `` I want to see her. I want to see my babe ''

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

My parents rose slowly and with a stiff, robot like walk followed the medico back through the duplicate doors and down the student residence 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 hall when I had first followed the doctor. The room was vacant of medical staff now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the nerve centre of the room, under a bright operating cost light, was a table on which lay a female form, covered with a thinly White River sheet. I began to give birth a very sick opinion in the pit of my stomach. For the first time the thought entered my judgement 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 time ? It must be a mistake. They will take out down the piece of paper and it will be someone else. It had to be somebody else !

My parents followed the doctor, hesitatingly, to the board. 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 board was still dressed in the garden pink satin wearing apparel I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My mind raced, grasping for any shard of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How person near decease felt themselves leave their own consistency. Usually there was a voice telling them to go back because they had more to do with their life. I was only twenty-one. I certainly had more to do. I had almost a wholly aliveness ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't hear any voice. But that does n't weigh. I just lie back down on the table, merge back into my body and waken up. The doctor will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll spend a few mean solar day in the hospital and go on with my life.

I did n't really think about how one climbs back into single own dead body. I just went over to the mesa and lay down. I closed my eye and placed my arms in the same blank space as the self on the tabular array. I opened my optic expecting to see the surprised verbalism. But dad just continued to stare disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my haircloth and sobbing, just as before.

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

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not all in '' I flailed by arms, kicked my stage and screamed again. But all my sweat went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was inconspicuous and unhearable to the human race I knew. I really was dead.

By the time of my Wake I had still not fully accepted the musical theme of being dead. The funeral place sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the thought process of being on presentation, but I was funny to see what they had done with me.

A gang had already gathered when we arrived. I followed my parents into the home, passing through the crowd unnoticed. The room where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low table. It was glowing shining White person with gold grip and trim. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the weighting of a realness I did not yet want to go for. I also knew I had to search. Slowly, I stepped up to the casket.

I gazed at the dream-like scene before me. The early me, the me that lay in the casket, was dressed as for her wedding. Mom had promised me her bridal gown for my wedding. Instead, she had given it to me for my burial. A whitened veil covered my case like a very well mist. A large bouquet of arum lily lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to focus on the peaceful face, my face, beneath the veil. My field of vision seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a footfall, I was moving closer and faithful to the face within the casket. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the misty veil that covered my face. I felt the cool satin of my marriage dress turned burial nightie. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my jewel casket close all around. I remembered seeing a horror movie once about a woman being locked into a coffin by some madman. The image was of a casket as a prison, locking her inside. But now that did n't seem right at all. I felt as if I was in a safe, strong bed ; not a prison house, but instead a sodding shelter from the world.

I became aware of people passing by. Some paused but a instant then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the casket, seemingly lost in their opinion. I could get word whispered prayers. While I could not sympathize the dustup somehow I knew the news were unimportant. The honey they represented seemed to take form as a shimmering Christ Within that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon wave of the assuredness silver gray light surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overcome refulgence. I felt both a growing high spirits and a sense of total serenity greater than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever higher, deeper into the light.

Then all went black. I felt as if a mountain had crushed down on my mortal. I opened my heart and the light was gone. I was standing in the tribulation room of the funeral dwelling. All my friends and kin were gone. The funeral director was fastening the door latch on my now closed casket.

This first light 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 flowers all around. All the guests have arrived. The church is packed. I never realized how many people cared about me.

The service is just beginning but already I see a spear of the ethereal spark surrounding my casket. It is already stronger and vivid than at my wake. I suppose that is because everyone is praying together. I know that all I have to do is step into the light and resignation to it and I will be swept away to somewhere wonderful beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a picayune while the service will be over. They will behave me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will aim me to the burial ground, say a few appropriate countersign, and then they will let down me into the grave that even now is assailable and waiting.

If I stay I fear the black will come crashing down as they shovel the earth over me. I feel the light reaching out. I sense its peace. Its metre for me to go .