This is just a story I wrote last night. I love metaphors and this represents to me what it will look like after we die. The canvas we’ll have in front of us to work with.
I have fallen. The room echo’s. Nobody is here. Nothing is here. The walls are white. The floor is white. The horizon is white. Never-ending. In all directions. There is no north. I’m not a human. Am I seeing? Is this whiteness sensed? Instead of seen? I am invisible. No hands. No legs. Just space. Without a shadow. I am nervous. But am I nervous? What is nervous? What is what? It’s a word. Not in this life, however. Wait…what is life? Am I dead? No…I’m not even real. But of course I am…right? But…am I even an I? I was…not anymore…I think. I can’t remember my name. What am I trying to remember exactly? There has to have been something before. It makes sense. Hell…what is sense? This doesn’t have sense. No…not sense…I don’t know…okay, okay…let’s drop the label. I am not an I. Because I don’t have a name. Or a familiar being. Everything just…started. A couple seconds ago. There it wasn’t and there it is. It has begun. Nothing was before this. Stop trying to figure it out. Being an it isn’t so bad. I mean…look at this place. There are no other its. Not its to share with. Whiteness. It’s beautiful really. Like a portal…let’s spend some time here. Freedom. Expression. Thought. Silly really, to keep spitting out words like the meaning is already known. Oh well…no matter….anything is possible. This is my whiteness. Can an it be possessive? Ah…who cares.
Thanks, this was a stream of consciousness, that’s why there are so many thinking dots.
Create your own world