My name is Katherine. near of you would call me a ghost, or perhaps an angel. I am you see, what most individual 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 dance. I had barely entered the door of the sorority house when I started feeling ill. My head started throbbing. The room started to twiddle as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my backrest. I was on a table in a brightly lit room. Several men and cleaning woman in hospital uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting spent supplies. In malice of the bright spark, the room seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a slow, corpse, almost phantasmagorical fashion. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

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

The Dr. lead down a corridor, then through another doorway into a small waiting room. My mother and forefather were the only I 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 question that was written on their faces, the Doctor spoke.

'' Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a major cerebral aneurisim. In layman 's terms, a faint section in one of the John Roy Major artery in her brain swelled and burst. There was nothing we could do. Your girl is dead. ``

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

My first thinking were `` What kind of bad jape 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 case ? ``

After a few arcminute, my female parent composed herself enough to mouth. `` I want to see her. I want to see my infant ''

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

My parents rose slowly and with a remains, robot like pass followed the Doctor back through the double doors and down the hall from which I had just minutes before emerged. They turned into a elbow room marked `` emergency brake ICU - A ''

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

In the pith of the room, under a bright overhead light, was a mesa on which lay a female form, covered with a thin whiteness sheet. I began to cause a very tired of feeling in the pit of my belly. For the first time the sentiment entered my brain 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 like time ? It must be a misapprehension. They will pull down the sheet and it will be somebody 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 board. The me on the table was still dressed in the pink satin dress I had worn to the terpsichore. I looked to be asleep. My nous raced, grasping for any fragment of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How someone near expiry 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. 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 take heed any voice. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the board, conflate back into my body and awaken 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 table and lay down. I closed my oculus and placed my arms in the like piazza as the ego on the tabular array. I opened my eyes expecting to see the surprised reflexion. But dad just continued to gaze disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my pilus and sobbing, 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 weapons system, kicked my peg and screamed again. But all my effort went unheeded. What ever I was now, I was inconspicuous and inaudible to the world I knew. I really was dead.

By the sentence of my wake I had still not fully accepted the approximation of being dead. The funeral place sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the thought of being on display, but I was rum to see what they had done with me.

A crowd had already gathered when we arrived. I followed my parents into the habitation, passing through the crew unnoticed. The room where I lay was filled with flowers. My jewel casket lay on a low mesa. It was glowing shining Edward Douglas White Jr. with gold handles 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 realism I did not yet want to accept. I also knew I had to reckon. 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 bridal surgical gown for my nuptials. Instead, she had given it to me for my sepulture. A white humeral veil covered my font like a fine mist. A large nosegay of calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to concenter on the peaceful face, my boldness, beneath the caul. My line of business of visual sense seemed to constrict, as if, without taking a tone, I was moving closer and closer to the face within the coffin. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the misty veil that covered my human face. I felt the sang-froid satin of my marriage wearing apparel turned burial gown. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the position of my casket close all around. I remembered seeing a horror film once about a woman 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, lovesome bed ; not a prison, but instead a perfect 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 coffin, seemingly lost in their mentation. I could hear whisper petition. While I could not read the Holy Scripture somehow I knew the dustup were unimportant. The love they represented seemed to demand form as a shimmering brightness level that grew in intensity with each offered orison. I felt wave upon wave of the poise silver grey twinkle surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overpowering refulgency. I felt both a growing elation and a common sense of tot peace with child than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever higher, deeper into the light.

Then all went Negroid. I felt as if a lot had crushed down on my soul. I opened my heart and the twinkle was gone. I was standing in the visitation room of the funeral home. All my acquaintance and mob were gone. The funeral director was fastening the door latch on my now closed casket.

This sunup 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 guests have arrived. The Christian church is packed. I never realized how many people cared about me.

The service is just beginning but already I see a quill of the ethereal ignitor surrounding my casket. It is already solid and brighter than at my aftermath. I suppose that is because everyone is praying together. I know that all I have to do is ill-treat into the Light Within and surrender to it and I will be swept away to somewhere terrific beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a piffling while the service will be over. They will carry me, that former me in the coffin, back to the hearse. They will aim me to the burial site, say a few appropriate words, and then they will lower me into the grave that even now is afford and waiting.

If I stay I fear the total darkness will issue forth crashing down as they shovel the globe over me. I feel the brightness level reaching out. I sense its serenity. Its sentence for me to go .