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Recycled
You know when your dead, you just do. It feels weird!
So, I hear you ask, what's it like being dead? Well, it's like dreaming, but real. Let me explain. When you dream, you don't remember your life before the dream. The dream is what is real to you at that particular time. It's only when you wake up do you realise you were dreaming.
Does that sound a bit too philosophical? Sorry. But its true. I don't remember anything about who I was before. Were I a good person or were I a bad person? You tell me. But I do know I'm a young woman. I may be dead, but I'm not blind!
Also, I don't remember dying. I don't remember being ill or being in an accident or worse, murdered.
Why I'm I telling you all this. Well, its going to happen to us all one day. Sooner rather later for some. So, I am just sitting here in this large room with a load of other people and I thought maybe a heads-up might be beneficial to some of you. Besides, I like to talk when I'm nervous because, to be honest, I haven't a clue as to what is going to happen next.
As I just mentioned, I'm sitting here in a large room. It's a bit like one massive doctor's waiting room. Although maybe that description is less than appropriate, considering that the help of a doctor is well beyond us all here now.
There are two rows, my row and the one opposite me. It's hard to see way off in the distance, but I'm assuming that the one opposite eventually snakes around and meets my row.
So, my row goes on infinitely to the right while to my left it seems to stop at a door. There is something written above the door, however from this distance it's a bit hard to read.
Periodically, I shuffle along the row and seem to be getting nearer the door. I again strain to see what it reads above it. But no, I still can't make it out. But it looks like one word.
I have moved again, quite a bit this time. The door is well in sight now and I can read that word. Also, there is now a lady handing out leaflets. She is not going all the way down the rows only to those who are getting near the door.
I must be at the end of her range because she doesn't go beyond where I sit. I take a look at the leaflet she handed to me which is entitled, 'So, Your Dead. What Happens Next?' underneath the title is a picture of a lady consoling someone.
I turn over the leaflet and it reads how sorry they are, that we are here and it hopes that the leaflet will be of a help to us in our transition as we are allocated our new earthly bodies. Then it goes on to say how souls are in great demand since the cutbacks and although eternal sleep is the souls reward after death, our decision to be repatriated back into new life on earth is a great sacrifice that is much appreciated.
Personally, I don't remember being asked while alive if I minded going around a second time. But then again, I wouldn't remember would I. Well it looks like my turn next to go through the door and a chance to start over again.
It's been nice chatting to you. Pity I wouldn't remember any of it. Oh! the name above the door, Recycled!
© Alice White
So, I hear you ask, what's it like being dead? Well, it's like dreaming, but real. Let me explain. When you dream, you don't remember your life before the dream. The dream is what is real to you at that particular time. It's only when you wake up do you realise you were dreaming.
Does that sound a bit too philosophical? Sorry. But its true. I don't remember anything about who I was before. Were I a good person or were I a bad person? You tell me. But I do know I'm a young woman. I may be dead, but I'm not blind!
Also, I don't remember dying. I don't remember being ill or being in an accident or worse, murdered.
Why I'm I telling you all this. Well, its going to happen to us all one day. Sooner rather later for some. So, I am just sitting here in this large room with a load of other people and I thought maybe a heads-up might be beneficial to some of you. Besides, I like to talk when I'm nervous because, to be honest, I haven't a clue as to what is going to happen next.
As I just mentioned, I'm sitting here in a large room. It's a bit like one massive doctor's waiting room. Although maybe that description is less than appropriate, considering that the help of a doctor is well beyond us all here now.
There are two rows, my row and the one opposite me. It's hard to see way off in the distance, but I'm assuming that the one opposite eventually snakes around and meets my row.
So, my row goes on infinitely to the right while to my left it seems to stop at a door. There is something written above the door, however from this distance it's a bit hard to read.
Periodically, I shuffle along the row and seem to be getting nearer the door. I again strain to see what it reads above it. But no, I still can't make it out. But it looks like one word.
I have moved again, quite a bit this time. The door is well in sight now and I can read that word. Also, there is now a lady handing out leaflets. She is not going all the way down the rows only to those who are getting near the door.
I must be at the end of her range because she doesn't go beyond where I sit. I take a look at the leaflet she handed to me which is entitled, 'So, Your Dead. What Happens Next?' underneath the title is a picture of a lady consoling someone.
I turn over the leaflet and it reads how sorry they are, that we are here and it hopes that the leaflet will be of a help to us in our transition as we are allocated our new earthly bodies. Then it goes on to say how souls are in great demand since the cutbacks and although eternal sleep is the souls reward after death, our decision to be repatriated back into new life on earth is a great sacrifice that is much appreciated.
Personally, I don't remember being asked while alive if I minded going around a second time. But then again, I wouldn't remember would I. Well it looks like my turn next to go through the door and a chance to start over again.
It's been nice chatting to you. Pity I wouldn't remember any of it. Oh! the name above the door, Recycled!
© Alice White
