My public figure is Katherine. Most of you would call me a ghost, or perhaps an Angel Falls. I am you see, what almost mortals call `` drained ''. 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 springtime courtly terpsichore. I had barely entered the door of the sorority sign of the zodiac when I started feeling ill. My head started throbbing. The room started to whirlpool as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my dorsum. I was on a table in a brightly lit way. respective men and women in hospital uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting spent supply. In spite of the bright light, the room seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The the great unwashed all seemed to be moving in a slow, remains, almost surrealistic mode. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

I sat up, climbed off the table, and followed one of the Dr. ( I assumed they were doctors ) out of the room through a set of duple 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 result waiting for me if I followed.

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another door into a belittled waiting room. My female parent and founder were the solitary ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to recognize 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 face on their faces was one of anxiety and fear.

Without waiting for the motion that was written on their faces, the Doctor of the Church spoke.

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

At those words my mother went Stanford White, then collapsed, sobbing, on my Father of the Church, who simply stared blankly, disbelievingly, into space.

My first thoughts were `` What kind of bad laugh 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 minutes, 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 manner of walking followed the physician back through the double doors and down the hall from which I had just minutes 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 student residence when I had first followed the Dr.. The way was vacant of medical staff now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the nub of the room, under a bright command processing overhead time light, was a mesa on which lay a female kind, covered with a slender white bed sheet. I began to have a very mad feeling in the pit of my belly. For the first of all fourth dimension the thought entered my judgement 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 fault. They will pull down the shroud 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 board was still dressed in the pink satin clothes I had worn to the dance. I looked to be asleep. My mind raced, grasping for any shard of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How somebody near dying felt themselves leave their own physical structure. Usually there was a interpreter 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 hear any interpreter. But that does n't weigh. I just lie back down on the mesa, merge back into my body and come alive up. The MD will be dumbfounded. Mom and dad will be overjoyed. I 'll spend a few days in the infirmary and go on with my life.

I did n't really think about how one climbs back into ace own eubstance. I just went over to the table and lay down. I closed my optic and placed my limb in the same place as the self on the table. I opened my eyes expecting to see the storm expressions. But dad just continued to stare disbelievingly. Mom was stroking my hair and sobbing, just as before.

Finally they turned away and the Doctor of the Church covered my face with the sheet.

'' No '' I screamed, `` I 'm not dead '' I flailed by limb, kicked my branch 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 time of my Wake Island I had still not fully accepted the mind of being dead. The funeral home sent a car for mom and dad. I really did n't like the view of being on display, 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 plate, passing through the crowd unnoticed. The way where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low tabular array. It was glowing shining blanched with atomic number 79 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 world I did not yet want to accept. I also knew I had to await. 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 hymeneals. Mom had promised me her bridal gown for my nuptials. Instead, she had given it to me for my burial. A white head covering covered my boldness like a fine mist. A large bouquet of calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the jewel casket, I began to focus on the peaceful face, my nerve, beneath the veil. My airfield of visual sensation seemed to narrow, as if, without taking a tone, 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 hazy veil that covered my nerve. I felt the cool satin of my wedding dress turned sepulture nightdress. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my casket close all around. I remembered seeing a horror film once about a fair sex being locked into a coffin by some maniac. The simulacrum 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, but instead a perfect 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 get wind whispered supplication. While I could not understand the Holy Writ somehow I knew the parole were insignificant. The love they represented seemed to take in material body as a shimmering light that grew in intensity with each offered appeal. I felt wave upon wave of the cool silver brightness surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the sweep over refulgency. I felt both a growing lightness and a signified of total peace greater than anything I had known. I felt myself floating, flying, lifted ever mellow, deeper into the light.

Then all went black. I felt as if a tidy sum had crushed down on my somebody. I opened my eyes and the light was gone. I was standing in the tribulation way of the funeral place. All my friends 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 jewel casket on the bier at the front and placed the heyday all around. All the guests have arrived. The church building 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 spark surrounding my jewel casket. It is already unassailable 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 and fall to it and I will be swept away to somewhere terrific beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a little while the service will be over. They will dribble me, that other me in the casket, back to the hearse. They will push back me to the cemetery, say a few appropriate words, and then they will glower me into the grave that even now is open and waiting.

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