Copyright 2013
by Stephen Reid Andrews
All rights reserved in the author
Chapter 1
I must be dead because I no longer feel pain. Slowly my eyelids
flicker, and I awake to the most brilliant white I have ever witnessed. I’m
standing in a large room with a uniform white ceiling, white walls, and a white
floor. The brightness of the room is complete and appears to have no
imperfection. As far as I can see in front of me, the room is empty, and the
whiteness of the walls merging with the whiteness of the floor and ceiling
provide the sensation that the length of the room stretches on with no end.
As I assess my surroundings, I wonder if I am not dead but only
dreaming. The images are surreal like a dream, and I seem more like a spectator
than an actual participant, although I know I am an intricate part of the
scene. Because this is not how I pictured death, I decide that I must be
dreaming.
I notice other things that lead me to believe I am dreaming. For
one thing, I look down and realize that I am in my normal causal clothes – a
polo shirt, loose fit jeans, and tennis shoes. I can’t imagine that angels wear
such cheap shoes – unless, of course, I’m in hell.
Whether in a dream or a spiritual state, I know somehow that I am
having a very real experience and am completely at peace.
"David," I hear a woman's gentle voice behind me speak
my name.
Turning to see the speaker, I am calmed by the sight of who is
standing in front of me. Jennifer, my wife, is near me in the room. From her
posture, it’s obvious she was quietly watching me examine myself and my new
environment.
She looks as beautiful as the day I married her. Her soft skin is
radiant, her sandy brown hair is freshly curled and flows over her shoulders
like soft feathers floating in the air. Her blue eyes are bright and happy.
She's dressed in white, and she is not in pain. I am relieved because the last
I saw of her, she was laying on the floor of the mall. She is the most
beautiful person or thing I have ever seen. I want to reach out to her and
embrace her, but I am unable to move my arms towards her.
Jennifer smiles at me, like she usually does when she's happy to
see me, her delicate pink lips stretching her mouth. However, from her
expression, I can tell that there is something more behind her smile. Her
expression foretells that she has something serious and important to tell me.
I try to speak to her, but I can’t form any words. Without a sound
from me, she raises her hand as if she was anticipating my question and puts
her finger to her lips in a motion to kindly silence me. I obey and stop making
any effort to speak.
In Jennifer’s other hand is a small box that is wrapped like a wedding
present in slick white wrapping paper with a gold ribbon tied in a bow. Jennifer
lowers her finger from her mouth so she can grab the small box with both hands.
I want to hold her, but I can’t move towards her. There is an
angelic glow about her that seems to operate like a shield which I can’t
penetrate. My inability to reach out and touch her is the worst imaginable
torture.
When I was lying on the mall floor, I thought she might be dead,
but here she is, in front of me and offering me a gift. Maybe she is dead –
maybe both of us are dead. Suddenly, I am overcome with the hope that we are
dead and that we will be able to stay in this beautiful dream world together
forever.
Jennifer alertly looks around like she has been startled or like
she has somewhere to go or is expecting someone to interrupt our meeting.
“David. I don’t have any more time. Here, you have to accept this,”
she says.
My arms are able to move but only enough to reach out to take the
gift. Without touching me, she gently places the gift in my open hands.
As she retracts from the gift and moves back three steps from me,
she shares her parting words. “David. You can’t waste time mourning for me. You
have to use this gift.”
Mourning for you? I think to myself
as she continues to back away from me. I don’t need to mourn for you. You’re
right here. I say in my mind although I am trying to say the words aloud.
As Jennifer backs away from me, her image blurs and tears apart
like a static-riddled picture on a TV screen. I am afraid that, if she leaves
me now, I may never see her again. I want to reach out to prevent her from
leaving, but, with my hands tightly gripped to the gift in obedience to
Jennifer’s command, I remain unable to move. The static image of Jennifer
slowly finishes tearing apart in front of me as I lose control of my thoughts.
Briefly, I see darkness like someone turned off a light using a switch. Then, a split second later everything is bright, as if the light was switched back on. As the brightness penetrates through my eyes, I am aware that my body is uncontrollably shaking. Even though I am shaking, my muscles are tense and frozen. I can’t stop my body from quaking, and I can do nothing to relax my muscles. Because I can still think, I suppose that I must still be alive even though I can’t feel or control any part of my body. I’m scared, but not as scared as I was when Jennifer’s image was backing away from me or as scared as I was lying on the mall floor believing that Jennifer was dead.
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