My gens is Katherine. Most of you would call me a wraith, or perhaps an holy person. I am you see, what most mortals 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 spring formal saltation. I had barely entered the room access of the sorority sign of the zodiac when I started feeling ill. My head started throbbing. The way started to twiddle as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my book binding. I was on a table in a brightly lit way. Several men and cleaning lady in infirmary uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting pass supplies. In spitefulness of the bright light, the room seemed to be filled with an aeriform mist. The the great unwashed all seemed to be moving in a sluggish, stiff, almost phantasmagoric fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

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

The Doctor of the Church lead down a corridor, then through another room access into a belittled waiting room. My female parent and father were the entirely 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 physician spoke.

'' Mr. and Mrs Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a major intellectual aneurisim. In layperson 's terms, a weak discussion section in one of the major artery in her brain swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your daughter is stagnant. ``

At those Bible my female parent went white-hot, then collapsed, sobbing, on my begetter, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

My first thoughts were `` What kind of bad caper is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm dead when I am obviously standing right in front line of them plain as the nose on your typeface ? ``

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

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

My parents rose slowly and with a cadaver, robot like manner of walking followed the doc back through the two-fold doors and down the hall from which I had just instant before emerged. They turned into a way 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 medico. The way was vacant of medical exam staff now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the middle of the room, under a undimmed command processing overhead time light, was a table on which lay a female form, covered with a thin white sheet. I began to feature a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. For the get-go time the cerebration entered my mind 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 clip ? It must be a misunderstanding. They will rend down the sheet of paper and it will be someone else. It had to be someone else !

My parents followed the Dr., hesitatingly, to the table. 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 garb I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My psyche raced, grasping for any fragment of Leslie Townes Hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How someone near death felt themselves leave their own trunk. Usually there was a voice telling them to go back because they had more to do with their life story. I was only vingt-et-un. I certainly had more to do. I had almost a unscathed animation ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't hear any vocalization. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the table, merge back into my body and wake up. The doctor will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll drop a few 24-hour interval in the hospital and go on with my life.

I did n't really think about how one climbs back into 1 own consistence. I just went over to the table and lay down. I closed my eyes and placed my arms in the Lapp home as the self on the tabular array. I opened my eyes expecting to see the surprise formula. But dad just continued to stare disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my hair and sobbing, just as before.

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

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not beat '' I flailed by coat of arms, kicked my legs and screamed again. But all my exploit went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was invisible and unhearable to the world I knew. I really was dead.

By the prison term of my wake I had still not fully accepted the idea of being utterly. The funeral home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the thought of being on presentation, but I was curious to see what they had done with me.

A crowd had already gathered when we arrived. I followed my parents into the home, passing through the crowd unnoticed. The way where I lay was filled with efflorescence. My casket lay on a low table. It was glowing shining white with atomic number 79 handles and trim. The lid was open.

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

I gazed at the dream-like picture before me. The other me, the me that lay in the casket, was dressed as for her wedding. Mom had promised me her bridal gown for my wedding ceremony. Instead, she had given it to me for my entombment. A Caucasian veil covered my side like a hunky-dory mist. A large corsage of calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to focus on the passive fount, my face, beneath the caul. My field of visual modality seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a whole step, I was moving closer and closer to the face within the casket. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the misty velum that covered my look. I felt the cool satin of my marriage attire turned entombment gown. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my jewel casket close all around. I remembered seeing a revulsion flick once about a char being locked into a coffin by some madman. The image was of a casket as a prison, locking her interior. But now that did n't look right at all. I felt as if I was in a safe, fond bed ; not a prison, but instead a stark shelter from the world.

I became aware of the great unwashed passing by. Some paused but a instant then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the casket, seemingly lost in their thoughts. I could hear whispered prayers. While I could not understand the Good Book somehow I knew the words were unimportant. The love they represented seemed to learn sort as a shimmering lightness that grew in vividness with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon Wave of the cool down silver medal 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 high spirits and a sense of summate peace large than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever higher, deeper into the light.

Then all went blacken. I felt as if a mountain had crushed down on my mortal. I opened my eyes and the igniter was gone. I was standing in the tribulation way of the funeral home. All my protagonist and phratry were gone. The funeral director was fastening the latch on my now closed casket.

This morning I rode in the hearse as they carried me to church. I watched as they placed my coffin 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 ray of the ethereal light surrounding my casket. It is already potent and brighter 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 surrender to it and I will be swept away to somewhere wonderful beyond imagining.

I know what will encounter here. In a little while the service will be over. They will carry me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will drive me to the burial site, say a few appropriate word, and then they will lower me into the tomb that even now is open and waiting.

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