My name is Katherine. Most of you would call me a ghostwriter, or perhaps an holy man. 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 class old. I had just returned from the leap formal dance. I had barely entered the room access of the sorority business firm when I started feeling ill. My psyche started throbbing. The room started to twirl as I collapsed and everything went black.

I woke up lying on my back. I was on a table in a brightly lit room. Several men and charwoman in infirmary uniforms were putting away equipment and collecting fagged supplies. In spite of the bright visible light, the way seemed to be filled with an ethereal mist. The people all seemed to be moving in a slow, remains, almost surrealistic way. They all seemed to be ignoring me.

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

The doctor lead down a corridor, then through another door into a small waiting room. My female parent and father were the only ones in the room.

I rushed ahead of the doctor, `` Mom ! Dad ! `` I rushed ahead to greet them, overjoyed to see conversant 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 doc. The flavour 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 Dr. Johnson ? Please sit down. Your daughter suffered a John Major cerebral aneurisim. In layperson 's term, a fallible section in one of the John Major artery in her mind swelled and burst. There was cypher we could do. Your daughter is dead. ``

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

My first view were `` What kind of bad put-on is this ? '' `` Why are you telling my parents I 'm dead when I am obviously standing right in movement of them plain as the nose on your boldness ? ``

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

'' Certainly '' said the doctor `` 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 doors and down the hall from which I had just minutes before emerged. They turned into a room marked `` parking brake 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 elbow room was vacant of checkup stave now. The equipment had all been removed or neatly stored against the walls.

In the center of the room, under a vivid overhead light, was a table on which lay a female person chassis, covered with a reduce white weather sheet. I began to sustain a very nauseous feeling in the pit of my tummy. For the first of all metre the thought entered my nous that maybe this was no joke.

But it had to be. How could I be lying there covered with a sail and standing here watching at the Saame meter ? It must be a error. They will root for down the sheet and it will be person else. It had to be soul else !

My parents followed the doctor, hesitatingly, to the tabular array. 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 pink satin dress I had worn to the terpsichore. I looked to be asleep. My brain raced, grasping for any fragment of hope. I had read about out-of-body experiences. How mortal near death felt themselves leave their own physical 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-time ahead. I was just getting started. I do n't try any articulation. But that does n't matter. I just lie back down on the table, fuse back into my organic structure and wake up. The doctor 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 unity own body. I just went over to the tabular array and lay down. I closed my eyes and placed my arms in the same place as the self on the table. I opened my centre expecting to see the surprised 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 covered my face with the sheet.

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

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

A gang had already gathered when we arrived. I followed my parents into the abode, passing through the crowd unnoticed. The room where I lay was filled with flowers. My casket lay on a low table. It was glowing shining Patrick Victor Martindale White with gold handgrip and trim. The lid was open.

I hesitated once again. I knew that what I would see would only add to the weight of a reality 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 casket, was dressed as for her hymeneals. Mom had promised me her bridal gown for my wedding. Instead, she had given it to me for my burial. A white veil covered my brass like a fine mist. A boastfully bouquet of Calla lilies lay in my arms.

As I stared at the casket, I began to focus on the passive cheek, my case, beneath the veil. My field of visual modality seemed to pin down, as if, without taking a step, I was moving closer and closer to the facial expression within the jewel casket. Suddenly, I was no longer standing before the casket, but lying inside ; looking up through the brumous veil that covered my side. I felt the poise satin of my wedding garb turned inhumation nightie. I smelled the fragrance of the lilies.

I sensed the sides of my coffin close all around. I remembered seeing a horror movie once about a woman being locked into a coffin by some madman. The range was of a casket as a prison house, locking her interior. But now that did n't seem right at all. I felt as if I was in a prophylactic, warm bed ; not a prison house, but instead a gross protection from the world.

I became aware of people passing by. Some paused but a bit then went on. Others stood or kneeled before the jewel casket, seemingly lost in their idea. I could hear whisper entreaty. While I could not understand the word of honor somehow I knew the words were unimportant. The love they represented seemed to lease form as a shimmering light that grew in intensity with each offered prayer. I felt wave upon moving ridge of the cool silver light surrounding me, flowing over me, filling me. I felt as if I was losing myself, willingly, in the overcome radiance. I felt both a growing elation and a sense of total peace of mind heavy 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 heap had crushed down on my soul. I opened my eye and the light source was gone. I was standing in the visitation room of the funeral home. All my friends and household were gone. The funeral music director was fastening the latches on my now closed casket.

This dawn I rode in the hearse as they carried me to church. I watched as they placed my casket on the bier at the presence and placed the flowers all around. All the invitee 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 irradiation of the ethereal Inner Light surrounding my casket. It is already solid and hopeful 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 light and giving up to it and I will be swept away to somewhere terrific beyond imagining.

I know what will happen here. In a picayune while the service will be over. They will carry me, that early me in the coffin, back to the hearse. They will drive me to the cemetery, say a few appropriate words, and then they will lower me into the grave that even now is open and waiting.

If I stay I fear the total darkness will come crashing down as they shovel the earthly concern over me. I feel the light reaching out. I sense its peace of mind. Its time for me to go .