It doesn’t have a beginning. There is no middle. There is only an end.
An end I have dreamed about, fantasied about, researched about.
I’m still alive, and I’m grateful. I don’t want to rush time or seek death. But I do live in two worlds. A world where I stay with the living. The world we all know to be true. It’s governed by gravity and seasons and rules imposed by reality. But the other world? The one after this is a mystery. Is it all light and angels like some texts? Is it all red and flames like some warnings? Or is it just another place?
A place with its own rules and parameters…as real as the one we are born to. A place where we visit when we dream, a place we feel on lonely nights and touch in shadowy corners?
A place where our loved ones wait to find us.
In my world, that place is real.
So real, I dream about it.
I visit there so often, it’s as much home as the one I breathe and exist in.
The only thing is…there is no breath required in this other world. There are no limitations on bodies or fragility caused by sickness or strife. There is no sorrow or struggle.
Just a place of utmost satisfaction.
And that is where my story begins…or ends, as the case may be.
This is my prediction, my hope, my prayer for when my final day on earth occurs.
I will die, and I am not afraid.
I will pass over, and I am ready.
I will close my eyes on the family I love, but open them again to a husband I’ve missed for eternity.
I will never publish this tale as it’s purely for me. An exercise in creation. A tool to help me cope.
And when my dying day comes, I am no longer human but a ghost.
A phantom.
No longer belonging to bone and body but to wind and wishes.
I belong to magic.
I belong to love.
And I feel it…tugging me.
The world is still around me, but it’s different.
I recognise trees and flowers and sunshine, yet they feel so much more. More alive. More colourful. More knowing.
My feet are bare, yet I don’t feel the green, green grass between my toes.
My white dress is fabric, yet I am naked and free.
I feel alive even though I am dead.
I no longer have pain from long-ago injuries. I no longer feel the twist of ligaments or strength of sinew. I walk, but really, I skim the ground below me.
I am weightless with freedom and marvel at the exquisite wash of nothingness. The complete lack of sensation from taste or sound or touch. My mortal senses are no longer master here, and slowly, step by step, wing by wing, I embrace a new way of existing.
A way of all-knowing, all-feeling, all-encompassing.
I am no longer a woman.
I am a spirit tapped into the wonders of creation itself.
The shimmer and shine of this new existence fades somewhat as my feet descend to sink into spongy, dew-wet grass.
And this time, I feel it.
I feel breath in my lungs and blood in my heart.
Yet I know I am no longer human.
This is just the form I am most comfortable in…for now. The form this new world has given me until I’m ready to take on a new one. To fashion a different existence, to live in the elements and explore the galaxies.
But for now, I am limited by my imagination and tolerance.
And besides, I’m searching.
Searching for something I lost so long ago. Something I know is still waiting for me.
I keep walking, dazzled by trees rustling and sun shining and the sky glittering like every sapphire and turquoise gem has been used to create the heavens.
There’s no dirt or sullied imperfection. No rushing or stressing or worry.
Just me in an endless summer meadow, floating, walking, manifesting my way to what I’d lost.
I still remember my previous life. I remember the son I created and the family who adopted me. I remember more in this form than I ever could in my human shell. My thoughts are free. My mind is a universe of teachings and past lives, and I’ve been given the key to all of them.
Some ended young. Some ended badly. But almost all of them had a partner.
A boy.
A man.
Different faces, different hearts, but one soul.
The soul intrinsically entwined with mine.
It’s as if I summoned him.
A silver shadow appears on the horizon. A silhouette blinded by sterling light.
And I am home.
It takes a single thought to cross the distance. To sail from meadow to horizon and stop before him.
In this world, he could take any shape, be any power, exist in anything.
Yet I recognise him.
The sable bronze hair, the soft brown eyes, the jawline I’ve kissed and the body I’ve hugged.
His hand reaches for mine.
I place it into his touch.