My epithet is Katherine. Most of you would call me a ghost, or perhaps an holy man. I am you see, what most mortal 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 outpouring dinner dress dance. I had barely entered the doorway of the sorority house when I started feeling ill. My heading started throbbing. The elbow room started to swirl as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my spine. I was on a table in a brightly lit elbow room. respective men and cleaning lady in hospital uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting played out supplies. In spite of the brilliant lightness, the elbow room seemed to be filled with an aery mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a slow, stiff, almost dreamlike way. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the table, and followed one of the doctors ( I assumed they were MD ) out of the room through a set of dual threshold. I do n't really bang 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 door into a belittled waiting room. My mother and father were the only if ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to greet 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 physician. The look on their faces was one of anxiety and fear.

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

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

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

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

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

'' Certainly '' said the MD `` If you feel you are up to it, I will pick out you to her. ``

My parents rose slowly and with a stiff, robot like manner of walking followed the doctor back through the threefold doorway and down the hall from which I had just mo before emerged. They turned into a room marked `` exigency ICU - A ''

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

In the center of the room, under a undimmed overhead illumination, was a table on which lay a distaff pattern, covered with a thin white sheet. I began to ingest a very sick flavor in the pit of my breadbasket. For the for the first time clock time the thought entered my judgment that maybe this was no joke.

But it had to be. How could I be lying there covered with a bed sheet and standing here watching at the same time ? It must be a mistake. They will rip down the piece of paper and it will be soul else. It had to be someone 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 table was still dressed in the pinko satin wearing apparel I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My judgment raced, grasping for any sherd of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How somebody near last felt themselves leave their own soundbox. Usually there was a voice telling them to go back because they had more to do with their life history. I was only twenty-one. I certainly had more to do. I had almost a whole life history ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't listen any vocalism. But that does n't count. I just lie back down on the table, fuse back into my body and wake up. The doctor will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll pass a few solar day in the infirmary and go on with my life.

I did n't really remember about how one climbs back into ones own organic structure. I just went over to the board and lay down. I closed my optic and placed my blazonry in the same space as the self on the tabular array. I opened my eye 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 face 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 invisible and inaudible to the world I knew. I really was dead.

By the time of my viewing I had still not fully accepted the idea of being beat. The funeral nursing home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the sentiment 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 room where I lay was filled with flower. My casket lay on a low tabular array. It was glowing shining white with Au handles and trim. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the free weight of a realness 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 nuptial nightie for my wedding. Instead, she had given it to me for my interment. A white humeral veil covered my face like a fine mist. A large fragrancy of Zantedeschia aethiopica lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to center on the peaceful face, my face, beneath the humeral veil. My field of vision seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a 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 foggy veil that covered my face. I felt the cool satin of my wedding dress 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 picture once about a adult female being locked into a coffin by some lunatic. The paradigm 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, warm bed ; not a prison house, but instead a consummate tax shelter from the world.

I became aware of people passing by. Some paused but a moment then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the casket, seemingly lost in their cerebration. I could hear whisper prayers. While I could not see the Word somehow I knew the Bible were insignificant. The dearest they represented seemed to take bod as a shimmering light that grew in intensity with each offered supplicant. I felt wave upon wave of the chill silver grey sparkle surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overpowering effulgence. I felt both a growing elation and a sense of tot up ataraxis expectant 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 mint had crushed down on my soulfulness. I opened my oculus and the light was gone. I was standing in the visitation room of the funeral home. All my champion and family were gone. The funeral director was fastening the door 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 casket on the bier at the nominal head and placed the flowers all around. All the guests have arrived. The church building is packed. I never realized how many people cared about me.

The inspection and repair is just beginning but already I see a beam of the ethereal light surrounding my jewel casket. It is already stronger and hopeful than at my Wake Island. 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 find here. In a little while the divine service will be over. They will carry me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will drive me to the cemetery, say a few conquer Holy Writ, and then they will lower me into the tomb that even now is receptive and waiting.

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