Don’t believe the clichés about dying. None of them were true for me. There was no picturesque slideshow of my life that flashed before me as my last breaths escaped. There was no bright light at the end of some long ominously dark tunnel.
What there was, by the grace of God, was a complete and utter calm after the storm. As soon as I let go of the gripping fear, a wave of realization flowed over me like a warm ray of slightly tingling vibration. It was like finally letting go of the vicious tug-of-war rope, but instead of falling ungracefully; a slow motioned float-fall movement buffered the fear. “I Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer”, one of my favorite Stevie Wonder songs, seemed to play somewhere outside my head. I love that song. I smiled inside. If I could have started singing along I would have, but I no longer had control of my physical movement. I noticed my eyes closing involuntarily. I realized then that I was happy in that moment. Happiness. It was unlike any that I had encountered on the many days that mysteriously precluded my death.
That’s when the separation started. Dying, similar to birthing, is a difficult process. When a baby first gets that gasp of unmitigated painful air to its new lungs, there is a shock to the system. Hence, the crying is inevitable. Accordingly, when my spirit started to detach itself, again, in another involuntarily motion, I found my body became a bit stubborn. However, I didn’t have lungs and there were no longer any breaths I needed to take. Instead, it seemed the contrary and solely important thing to do was to forget to breath and move. In my Psychology 101 class in college, I learned that this is called de-association. People who do this to themselves on earth can inflict dangerous harm to themselves, so not really fully understanding the idea of death, I scared myself quite thoroughly. I felt disorientated, and then, because I had no other smart alternative, I did what I thought was sleeping.
I was told later that this went on for about an hour. Then, suddenly, without “waking” and without warning, I rose. Pressure from fast air compressing me, made me open my eyes, and I saw a flickering light. It reminded me of a kid playing with the light switch. I was also told that this was me simulating the contrast light that my imagination associated with leaving the earths’ atmosphere. See, I didn’t really leave earth. I can’t tell you much about where I ended up, but it wasn’t as far from earth as I thought it would be. It is not a “place” in the sense of a noun, but more a plain. It isn’t in the sky or galaxy, or even in the universe. In fact, the universe, amazing as it is, looks very small from here. When I got here, I wasn’t sure there was a heaven or hell, or if this place actually fit into my definition of either of those. When I was alive, I had my vague ideas of what afterlife would be like, but so far, this was more real and tangible than I could have possibly imagined. It was not dreamlike at all.
I didn’t know how long I’d been lying on the couch, but I felt very good. Rejuvenated, actually. As I looked around, I realized I was in a blue room, lying on an old schlumpy, but comfortable blue couch. It didn’t smell so wonderful, but it felt great. I took this to be a good sign, as my favorite color is blue. I’ve always been a strong believer in the power of omens, good or bad. The rest of the room was bare, not a picture, or stick of furniture occupied it, and oddest of all, not even a door was present in this room. I dizzily rose to a sitting position with my legs folded Indian style underneath me. The decision to place my feet on the floor yielded a breathtaking view. The uncarpeted floor was actually a beautifully carved navy marble floor. I studied this curiously for a contemplative second, and then continued to cool my feet on its deliciously cold surface.
It was only then that I looked down at myself. I noticed how thin my wrists were. I looked down at my flat stomach, completely flabbergasted. I never had had washboard abs or anything, but my stomach now had barely any fat on it. My usual kangaroo pouch was gone and my skin looked like that of an eighteen-year old. I jumped up and spun around, laughing. All the years of calorie counting and grueling personal training sessions at the gym were all for naught. All I had to do was die! There wasn’t a mirror anywhere so I had to satisfy my curiosity by feeling my face with my hands. I moved up to my hair. It had been naturally curly as a child but as the years passed it had become courser and thinner. My vanity wanted to confirm these newly regained features, but my hunger demanded that I survey my surroundings and find a way out.
As I surveyed the medium-sized room, I observed the thickness and texture of the walls. They were paper thin. Actually, these borders couldn’t really be called walls. They appeared to be more like a huge-scale paper Mache project produced by a talented yet obviously large crew. There was nothing on them, but as I stared, I realized that these walls encompassed more shades of blue than I’d ever seen. It reminded me of the painter that they always used to feature on PBS who shows you how to blend colors when you’re painting a tree or the ocean. I was awestruck, and honestly, a tad bit dumbfounded. Only then, did I think to look up. There was no ceiling, just a huge blue tarp that looked as if it had been haphazardly slung over the room’s four walls. I was pondering who would take the effort to drape the tarp over such a large space as this, and how did they it. It must have taken a team of at least nine or ten people. I hadn’t started to worry yet, but how I would manage to exit the room did cross my mind. Standing on the couch wouldn’t place me anywhere near touching distance of the tarp.
Just then, I heard a loud rustling above my head. This tarp was either being moved by a strong wind, or being moved by some other force. Or someone, I reminded myself, swallowing hard. Finally looking up, I saw a small slice of sky exposed. In contrast to my blue haven below, the sky was a soft lavender hue. It was not unrealistic compared to the many dusky smog clouded mornings I’d spent in LA. It was just a bit brighter. Then I saw her. Piercing blue eyes peered back at me curiously.
“How are you doing down there?” a squeaky voice echoed down toward me.
What caused that echo? I wondered.
“Hi”. I squeaked back. I was nervous. Too nervous to form an actual answer to her reasonable question. Weird. Why was I nervous?
About a quarter of the tarp was now pulled back. Amazingly, an adorable young girl jumped onto the marble floor from the makeshift ceiling. She landed in the space that was hidden from my view by the couch. I rushed around the couch thinking she had to be hurt from a jump that high. After all, that was about a ten foot drop. But she was crouched on her two feet with the hands she’d used to steady herself placed on the floor. As she looked up at my worried yet quizzed expression, she giggled. I took a sharp breath, a surprise squeal trapped in my throat.
She was quite beautiful. She had the epicanthic folds around her eyes that let me know she had some form of Asiatic heritage. Her skin, however, was as dark as mine. A warm caramel. But the eyes were what captivated me. They were bright blue and piercing. Her frame was tiny, even for a small girl, yet she seemed to be very nimble.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied smartly. This puzzled me even more. I glanced up again in attempt to calculate the distance of the tarp and the chilly marble floor. The distance had to be ten to twelve feet at least, floor to tarp, and the seemingly indestructible slate under my feet would in no way cushion a fall from that height.
“Well, that’s quite a jump,” I said carefully.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” she said, “you can do all kinds of things here.”
“And what kinds of things…?” I said, quite baffled I might add.
“Anything you want. Perception is reality here,” she said with a giggle.
The words coming out of her mouth presented quite a conundrum for me. She looked like a young girl, somewhere between the ages of eight and ten, but she certainly didn’t talk like one.
“So…” I started, “how do we get out of here.”
“What do you think would be the most logical solution,” she said.
I looked around me. The walls, although thin, didn’t seem flimsy enough to push down. I tested one by pushing on it tentatively.
“That’s not going to work, silly,” she said, highly amused, I could tell.
“Well I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, you know. I’m used to rooms with doors,” I said under my breath.
“I guess what I should say is what do you think is the most illogical solution?” she said, another giggle just waiting to burst from her cute heart-shaped mouth.
Illogical? The possibilities were endless in a place like this. I guess I could turn into a bird and fly right out of here. That would definitely be outside my realm of what I knew reality to be.
“Well I guess flying would be something to consider, illogically speaking, of course,” I said.
“You mean like this?”
As she said it, she started to levitate. Just slightly, though, as if she was just testing herself. Almost as if she didn’t really know how to do it that well. Her descent down to the marble floor was seamless.
“Ok. Until now, I didn’t really believe it, but I know that’s not possible. I must really be dead,” I said with wonder.
“Yep! You are but don’t worry. From what I know, you don’t have much to miss, right?”
Stunned, I stared at her, unable to formulate a question or comment that would even make sense. Wait. She had just said thinking illogically was the only way we were going to get out of here.
“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I’m Aisha,” she said.
“Lola,” I said.
“Wow. That was my childhood friend’s name,” I said thoughtfully.
“I know,” she said, delightfully satisfied what I thought must be a coincidence.
“So is this some type of psychic plane? Do you know all my thoughts, or are you just privy to my past?”
I wondered to myself if she knew what the word privy meant. Even twelve was pushing it for her size. But somehow I sensed that she did know what it meant, and that she could surpass me not only in vocabulary but volubility as well. She quickly proved my assumption was correct .
“You are right in a sense. This is a plane, but it’s not a psychic plane. It’s metaphorical plane, spiritual, allegorical even. It’s a place of your deepest desires and fears. It’s everything…”. She suddenly seemed as if she had ran out of words. “Don’t mind me though. I have a bad habit of talking too much.”
“So what do you want to do first?” she said, as if we were on a vacation planning our itinerary.
“Well, I guess the first question would be what can I do? I mean, obviously you can fly,” I said.
“Yeah, I don’t think you should try that,” she said, this time with an outright laugh. “It’s not easy,” she added.
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m quite hungry. Which I don’t understand. Why would I need to eat if I’m dead? All carnal functions should die with my body, right?” I asked.
“Speaking of bodies, how do you like your new one,” she said with a small smirk.
This took me by surprise. Not because she knew that I was overweight in my living years, but because it’s just not a question that a nine, ten or however old she was would ask. I reciprocated avoiding her question with another of my own.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“In earth years?” Then she shook her head, self-deprecatingly. “Well, obviously in earth years, right? That’s all you know to measure by. I died twenty-two years ago,” she said matter-of-factly. “But to answer your other question, yes, carnal functions of the body are no more. It’s psychological. What you think is hunger is actually something else, but I’ll humor you. Let’s get something to eat.”
She put both of her arms around me and began to levitate. This time her ascent wasn’t so seamless. It was apparent that my weight, all though severely reduced, was difficult for her to carry. We were floating up to the part of the tarp that had been pulled back from the top of the room. Once we reached the top of the inside corner, she loosened her grip on my waist.
“You have to hold on to the corner, so I can jump down the other side,” she said.
“Uhh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stammered.
“It’s the only way I can catch you. Unless you want to jump yourself,” she said with a hint of exasperation.
“Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but how are you going to catch me? I’m probably three times your weight!”
“Actually, it’ll probably be best for you to jump down yourself since you’re so paranoid. I hated when my dad used to throw me in the pool to make me learn how to swim. It’s best to go at your own pace.”
As she philosophized on my dilemma, I grabbed for the top of the inside corner near where the two walls met. I saw out of the corner of my eye that she was positioning herself at the apex of the wall, one bare foot on one wall and the other on the adjacent one. In one swift movement, she jumped out of the room onto whatever was out there. My curiosity was getting the best of me and I decided I wasn’t going to be a punk in front of this girl, no matter how long she had been here. I started to pull myself up onto the top of the wall. Although it was surprisingly thin, maybe only two to three inches thick, it was steady. I pulled myself up until I was able to place one of my feet on the top of the wall as she had. Then I pulled the other leg up between my arms, crouching down like a monkey on a tree branch. I finally could see what was out there and there was ….nothing.
The room we were in seemed totally detached from any other structure. We were on a hill that was populated with wild vibrant green grass. The hill, in fact, was so steep that I couldn’t see what lied on its other side.
“You don’t have to jump. Just let go. You remember gravity, right? It’ll do the rest,” she said. “You won’t get hurt, don’t worry.”
She was such a little smart ass that I started to argue with her and I let go of the wall unintentionally. I started to fall forward and my arms immediately flailed out, but I wasn’t falling the way gravity would normally permit, maybe at only a quarter of the normal speed. I hit the grass with a loud thump, flat on my belly.
“See, that didn’t hurt, did it?” she said smugly.
“Actually, it did sting a bit,” I replied.
“Well, then we’re gonna have to work on that perception of yours,” she said, helping me up with her tiny delicate hands.
I looked around again. This time without the bird’s eye view. There was nothing on the hill except the paper mache room. I looked up at the sunless bright lavender sky.
“Where are we,” I said with wonder.
“Some people call it the hereafter, heaven, or just the afterlife. I wasn’t alive that long so I call it home,” she said thoughtfully. She had a wistful look in her eyes so I decided to change the subject.
“So you said you’d humor me. Are we on our way to track down some food?”
“Yes. Most definitely. Actually, though, we’ll have to kill two birds with one stone. Don’t you like that phrase?” she said. “There’s someone you need to meet who will answer more of your questions and you can eat in the process over dinner.”
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