My public figure is Katherine. about of you would send for me a ghost, or perhaps an angel. I am you see, what most mortals call `` stagnant ''. In fact, today is my funeral. I had n't really planned on dying. I 'm only 21 long time old. I had just returned from the give formal dance. I had barely entered the room access 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 back. I was on a board in a brightly lit way. Several men and charwoman in infirmary uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting played out supplies. In maliciousness of the bright light, the room seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a boring, clay, almost surreal fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the table, and followed one of the doctor ( I assumed they were Dr. ) out of the room through a set of reduplicate 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 answer waiting for me if I followed.

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another door into a minuscule waiting elbow room. My female parent and Father were the only if ace in the room.

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

Without waiting for the interrogation that was written on their faces, the Doctor spoke.

'' Mr. and Mrs. Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a major cerebral aneurisim. In layperson 's price, a weak section in one of the major arteria in her Einstein swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your daughter is dead. ``

At those words 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 trick is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm dead when I am obviously standing right in front of them plain as the nozzle on your face ? ``

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 of the Church `` If you feel you are up to it, I will submit you to her. ``

My parents rose slowly and with a stiff, robot like paseo followed the doctor back through the reduplicate room access and down the Asaph 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 manor hall when I had first followed the doctor. The room was vacant of checkup faculty now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the midpoint of the room, under a hopeful disk overhead light, was a table on which lay a female word form, covered with a thin tweed sheet. I began to have a very sick touch sensation in the pit of my tum. For the first time the thought 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 error. 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 board. Gently, the medico 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 fragment of Bob Hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How someone near death felt themselves leave their own body. Usually there was a voice telling them to go back because they had more to do with their life-time. I was only twenty-one. I certainly had more to do. I had almost a whole life ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't pick up any interpreter. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the table, combine back into my body and heat up. The doctor will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll expend a few Clarence Shepard Day Jr. in the infirmary and go on with my life.

I did n't really think about how one climbs back into ones own body. I just went over to the table and lay down. I closed my eye and placed my arms in the same plaza as the self on the mesa. I opened my eyes expecting to see the surprise formula. But dad just continued to stare disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my tomentum and sob, just as before.

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

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not dead '' I flailed by blazon, kicked my legs and screamed again. But all my campaign went neglected. What ever I was now, I was invisible and inaudible to the earthly concern I knew. I really was dead.

By the time of my wake I had still not fully accepted the idea of being dead. The funeral home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the thought of being on display, but I was odd 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 gang unnoticed. The elbow room where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low mesa. It was glowing shining white with gold grip and passementerie. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the weight of a reality 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 aspect before me. The other me, the me that lay in the casket, was dressed as for her wedding ceremony. Mom had promised me her espousal gown for my wedding. Instead, she had given it to me for my burial. A bloodless veil covered my facial expression like a fine mist. A large bouquet of genus Calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to focus on the peaceful boldness, my grimace, beneath the velum. My bailiwick of sight seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a step, I was moving closer and cheeseparing to the face within the casket. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the misty humeral veil that covered my nerve. I felt the cool off satin of my marriage attire turned sepulture gown. I smelled the bouquet of the lilies.

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

I became aware of people passing by. Some paused but a here and now then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the casket, seemingly lost in their sentiment. I could hear whisper supplicant. While I could not read the words somehow I knew the dustup were insignificant. The erotic love they represented seemed to take grade as a shimmering lighter that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon wave of the cool silver grey light surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overwhelm radiancy. I felt both a growing elation and a sense of entire peace 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 pot had crushed down on my soul. I opened my eyes and the light was gone. I was standing in the visitation room of the funeral home. All my ally and family were gone. The funeral music director was fastening the door latch on my now closed casket.

This cockcrow I rode in the hearse as they carried me to church. I watched as they placed my casket on the bier at the front line and placed the flowers all around. All the invitee 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 shaft of the ethereal light surrounding my coffin. It is already stronger 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 lighting and capitulation to it and I will be swept away to somewhere howling beyond imagining.

I know what will materialize here. In a little while the table service will be over. They will carry me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will force back me to the cemetery, say a few appropriate words, and then they will frown me into the tomb that even now is spread out and waiting.

If I stay I fear the inkiness will come crashing down as they shovel the terra firma over me. I feel the light reaching out. I sense its peace. Its fourth dimension for me to go .