Skip to main content

Celestial Waiting Room

Funny, this sure wasn’t what I expected when the ole Grim Reaper came along. For years, hell, practically my whole life, I was told the good go to heaven- spending eternity in pleasurable pursuits, and the naughty go to hell- paying for their earth bound stupidity. Now, I can’t claim I lived the life of a saint; I like my beer a bit too much, like the horses even more, and well, lets just say I liked variety far too much to ever settle down with just one person. I wasn’t what you would call exactly pious, but I sure as heck wasn’t one of them genuine freaks heading for glory’s ole barbeque pit.

The reality of this whole death deal is definitely different from what I say most expect. Instead of gleaming cities, full of rapturous loved ones, it’s like one big room, of well, nothing. It’s like when your waiting in the dentist office, that annoying non-threatening happy music piping in, surrounded by strange looking people you’d rather not talk to unless you have to. That’s what this whole thing feels like, only sans the mind-numbing musical crap. So far, I haven’t seen one spiritual loved one. Actually, come to think on it, I haven’t really seen anyone I know, no one famous or infamous, saintly or otherwise. I’m pretty sure I’m dead, cause I don’t feel no pains or aches, in fact, I pretty much don’t feel a thing. So, that must mean I’m dead.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, sitting in this big ole nothingness. The only thing that changes is the sensation of being around others. Sometimes it feels like there is a bunch of us, just sitting here waiting, but I’m not quite sure what we’re waiting for. Other times, it’s like a door opened somewhere, and all the other people shuffled out, but forgot to tell me it was time to go. So I sit, alone again, in the nothingness.

All this waiting gives you too much time. Time to think about the life you lived, how things were done, and a lot of time to regret not doing the things that should have been done. Kind of makes you want to call “do over” and get a chance to do it right. Though I’m not sure if you can get “it” right.

As I said before, I’m not exactly sure how long I’ve been here. At times, it feels like it was just yesterday I arrived. I can still faintly recall the fear of letting go; I no longer have that feeling, or any other feelings, just faded impressions of them. It seems to get harder to recollect anything the longer I am here.

Something new just started happening. There is this steady rhythmic beating pounding in my ears. Actually, it’s all around me thumping steady. Sometimes, as I stretch, I think that’s a reflex of remembering my old body, I feel almost claustrophobic, as if I’m being closed in. It make me want to kick my way out at times, but then that steady rhythm lulls me, it’s a very soothing sound. Occasionally I imagine I can hear voices, muffled and faint, as if far off, probably a memory of something long forgotten. Surprisingly enough, every so often I imagine I see sunlight, though it’s a distorted red tinged light, it must be a warped concept of sunset, those multi-textured reds shaping the whole spectrum of how sunlight looks. Strange how things are becoming muted remembrances. I no longer recall what I once thought was important; now everything is shifted and convoluted.

I think I felt pain. No, I am sure I felt pain. It’s like everything is squeezing in on me. I can’t move. I feel so scared. My body is being crushed. My body? Oh God, I don’t have a body. It hurts everywhere. I am so scared. What is happening to me? I can’t breathe. Oh please, please, someone help me. I see a light up ahead; it is so bright. What does that light mean? A scream builds up in my belly…
“Congratulations Mrs. Lawrence, you have a beautiful baby boy.”

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Meaningless

this truth drives me insane as if the wounds of careless words goes unhealed I wait patiently for the moment to come wrapped up in apprehension I feel so undone I know relief is there just beyond the door but sometimes I wonder when the wind whispers if there is more my tears know nothing but this pain a waking nightmare of useless despair I once believe in the golden promise your honeyed words like a balm how foolish I was It feels as though I’m trapped in the web of wants needing the truth with the substance of cotton candy too sweet to be real so I wait stretched taunt and thin for the adoration of your love never knowing it was false how could I loose myself so utterly to the nothingness that is left a wake for fools will I be mourned at last unbidden they come like rivers of hot pain as I wrap deep inside my misery hidden from all except the night in moments of clarity I lie to myself as if pretending will make it a...

Tomorrow's Appeal Chapter 10

April 3, 2005 Quincy, California It was broad daylight the first time Neville kissed her. The sky was dark blue; the sound of a particularly loud lawn mower reverberated through the air as she lead him to their destination. Josie’s palms were sweaty. She had never actually brought anyone here before – never wanted to bring anyone here before. Neville must have noticed her distress as they crossed the lawn, because he reached out a hand and wove his fingers between hers. Josie gave him a hesitant smile as they walked along the immaculate green lawn, dotted by rows of inlaid granite snuggled close to the ground. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest – so loudly she was sure Neville could hear its strangely rapid tattoo. He gave her hand a quick squeeze as she slowed their pace. Without a word, he pulled her close to his body, brushing back a few strands of hair from her face. Josie’s breath caught in her throat. His eyes – such beautiful eyes – scanned her face as his head bent clos...

Could Have Been

when the words no longer flow expression becomes stilted sliding along the edge of something yet blanking towards the pain of nothing he thought to trap me in a cage of words to mute my voice with his subtle interest vindictiveness was never my forte neither was virtue yet the pale walls scream like a blank page I know why the caged bird sings boredom propels it to seek in art what is missing why does it seem like everything is missing funny how silence rings in your ears or is that the blood pumping the need for words scratching at the surface of my skin is love suppose to feel like this the bed squeaks its answer his body next to mine hot and sweaty my brain screaming to be released he thought to trap me in a cage of words wrapped in a licentious promise going nowhere fast and furious yet here I am again with nothing between me and the paper but a pen that does not move and a memory of what could have been