My figure is Katherine. to the highest degree of you would call me a specter, or perhaps an Angel. 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 age old. I had just returned from the spring formal dance. I had barely entered the door of the sorority menage when I started feeling ill. My capitulum started throbbing. The room started to twirl as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my vertebral column. I was on a table in a brightly lit room. several men and women in infirmary uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting dog-tired supplies. In spite of the bright Light Within, the room seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a sluggish, corpse, almost dreamlike mode. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the tabular array, and followed one of the physician ( I assumed they were doctors ) out of the room through a set of double room access. 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 lead down a corridor, then through another door into a small waiting way. My mother and father were the sole ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to recognize them, overjoyed to see fellow 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 Dr.. 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 President Andrew Johnson ? Please sit down. Your girl suffered a major cerebral aneurisim. In layman 's full term, a weak segment in one of the major arterial blood vessel in her brain swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your daughter is absolutely. ``

At those words my female parent went ashen, then collapsed, sobbing, on my father, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

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

After a few proceedings, my mother 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 take you to her. ``

My parents rose slowly and with a stiff, robot like walk followed the doctor back through the double doorway and down the hall from which I had just instant before emerged. They turned into a elbow 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 way was vacant of medical stave now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the shopping mall of the room, under a brilliantly overhead light, was a table on which lay a distaff form, covered with a cut white sheet. I began to have a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. For the initiatory time the idea entered my mind that maybe this was no joke.

But it had to be. How could I be lying there covered with a sheet of paper and standing here watching at the same time ? It must be a mistake. They will perpetrate down the flat solid and it will be someone else. It had to be someone else !

My parents followed the doctor, 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 pinko satin dress I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My mind raced, grasping for any fragment of Leslie Townes Hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How soul near death felt themselves leave their own body. Usually there was a part 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 unharmed life ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't get word any voice. But that does n't count. I just lie back down on the tabular array, immix back into my soundbox and ignite up. The doctor 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 think about how one climbs back into ones own body. I just went over to the board and lay down. I closed my eyes and placed my arms in the like place as the self on the mesa. I opened my eyes expecting to see the storm verbal expression. But dad just continued to gaze disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my whisker and sobbing, just as before.

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

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not beat '' I flailed by weapons system, kicked my legs and screamed again. But all my efforts went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was invisible and inaudible to the populace I knew. I really was dead.

By the time of my aftermath I had still not fully accepted the thought of being absolutely. The funeral home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the mentation of being on presentation, but I was curious 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 elbow room where I lay was filled with prime. My casket lay on a low table. It was glowing shining blanched 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 system of weights 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 coffin, 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 burial. A white velum covered my face like a finely mist. A large bouquet of calla lily lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to pore on the peaceful nerve, my face, beneath the head covering. My sphere of visual sense seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a footmark, I was moving closer and secretive to the nerve within the casket. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the hazy humeral veil that covered my face. I felt the cool off satin of my wedding attire turned burial gown. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my casket close all around. I remembered seeing a revulsion flick once about a woman being locked into a coffin by some maniac. The figure was of a jewel 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 up bed ; not a prison, but instead a utter 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 jewel casket, seemingly lost in their intellection. I could hear whispered prayers. While I could not realise the Book somehow I knew the words were insignificant. The dearest they represented seemed to take kind as a shimmering light that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon moving ridge of the nerveless 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 horse sense of aggregate peace swell 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 flock had crushed down on my individual. I opened my centre and the light was gone. I was standing in the visitation room of the funeral home. All my acquaintance and folk were gone. The funeral music director was fastening the latches on my now closed casket.

This dawning 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 invitee have arrived. The church is packed. I never realized how many the great unwashed cared about me.

The service is just beginning but already I see a shaft of the ethereal brightness level surrounding my coffin. It is already firm and smart 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 igniter and surrender to it and I will be swept away to somewhere wonderful beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a short while the help 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 receptive and waiting.

If I stay I fear the total darkness will occur crashing down as they shovel the terra firma over me. I feel the light reaching out. I sense its repose. Its clock time for me to go .