My public figure is Katherine. Most of you would cry me a spook, or perhaps an angel. I am you see, what most somebody call `` dead ''. In fact, today is my funeral. I had n't really planned on dying. I 'm only 21 class old. I had just returned from the natural spring formal dance. 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 binding. I was on a table in a brightly lit elbow room. Several men and char in hospital uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting played out supply. In spite of the bright luminosity, the way seemed to be filled with an supernal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a slow, corpse, almost phantasmagoric fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the tabular array, and followed one of the Doctor ( I assumed they were MD ) out of the room through a set of double doors. I do n't really be intimate why I did this. It just seemed the thing to do. Somehow I felt that there was an resolution waiting for me if I followed.

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another door into a small wait room. My mother and begetter were the merely one in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to recognise 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 doubtfulness that was written on their faces, the doctor spoke.

'' Mr. and Mrs Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a major cerebral aneurisim. In layman 's terms, a weak surgical incision in one of the major arterial blood vessel in her nous swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your girl is dead. ``

At those run-in my mother went Edward White, then collapsed, sobbing, on my Church Father, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

My first thinking were `` What kind of bad jest is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm dead when I am obviously standing right in front of them plain as the olfactory organ on your case ? ``

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

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

My parents rose slowly and with a remains, robot like walking followed the Doctor back through the double doors and down the hall from which I had just proceedings before emerged. They turned into a room marked `` pinch 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 aesculapian faculty now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the center of the room, under a bright smash light, was a mesa on which lay a distaff form, covered with a fragile white sheet. I began to have a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. For the first time the idea entered my nous that maybe this was no joke.

But it had to be. How could I be lying there covered with a shroud and standing here watching at the Saame time ? It must be a misunderstanding. They will pull down the flat solid and it will be soul else. It had to be mortal else !

My parents followed the doc, 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 tabular array. The me on the table was still dressed in the pink satin attire 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 individual near death felt themselves leave their own organic structure. 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 lifetime ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't hear any articulation. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the table, unify back into my organic structure and wake up. The doctor will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll spend a few daylight in the hospital and go on with my life.

I did n't really think about how one climbs back into one own body. I just went over to the table and lay down. I closed my eye and placed my weapon system in the Saame spot as the self on the table. I opened my eyes expecting to see the surprised look. But dad just continued to gaze disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my tomentum and sob, just as before.

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

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not perfectly '' I flailed by arm, kicked my peg and screamed again. But all my exertion went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was invisible and inaudible to the human race I knew. I really was dead.

By the prison term of my viewing I had still not fully accepted the approximation of being abruptly. The funeral dwelling house sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the persuasion of being on video display, 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 menage, passing through the crew unnoticed. The elbow room where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low table. It was glowing shining lily-white with gold handles and trimness. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the weight unit of a reality I did not yet want to go for. 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 jewel casket, was dressed as for her marriage. Mom had promised me her bridal gown for my marriage ceremony. Instead, she had given it to me for my interment. A white veil covered my face like a fine mist. A large bouquet of calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to centre on the peaceful face, my face, beneath the veil. My field of vision seemed to constrict, as if, without taking a whole tone, I was moving closer and closer to the side within the coffin. 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 poise satin of my wedding dress turned burial robe. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my casket close all around. I remembered seeing a repulsion pic once about a woman being locked into a coffin by some madman. The epitome 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 bed ; not a prison house, but instead a hone shelter from the world.

I became aware of people passing by. Some paused but a second 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 Christian Bible somehow I knew the Christian Bible were unimportant. The love they represented seemed to take variant as a shimmering Inner Light that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon wafture of the cool 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 elation and a gumption of total peace dandy than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever higher, deeper into the light.

Then all went dark. I felt as if a mint 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 Quaker and house were gone. The funeral director was fastening the latch on my now closed casket.

This daybreak I rode in the hearse as they carried me to church. I watched as they placed my jewel casket on the bier at the front and placed the flowers all around. All the guest 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 igniter surrounding my casket. It is already strong and shiny than at my backwash. I suppose that is because everyone is praying together. I know that all I have to do is step into the light and capitulation to it and I will be swept away to somewhere howling beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a slight while the service will be over. They will carry me, that other me in the coffin, back to the hearse. They will beat back me to the necropolis, say a few appropriate words, and then they will bring down me into the grave that even now is open and waiting.

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