It’s not easy being here. It takes time to adjust.
At first it was pretty cool. I loved zipping around, flying from place to place. After all, I had no body anymore, so there was that.
When I first arrived, everyone was there to greet me, kind of like a big high school reunion, but without the anxiety or bad ’80s music. It was great seeing my family and friends. But, holy shit! There were just so many of them! I was told I had already lived 52 lives back down on Earth. Fifty-two! You’d think with all that knowledge, some of it would have sunk in with my last life, but no. If only I had backed away from the bridge after the guy hitched me onto the bungee cord, I’d still be down there right now, eating Doritos and watching Roseanne reruns.
But I wasn’t. So I made do.
The first thing I noticed about the other side– it’s not ‘over there’ or ‘up there’. It’s right here. Right where you still exist. We are all milling around just a few frequencies above the living. Not far at all. Sometimes one of you might catch a glimpse of us if the dimensions accidentally leak into one another. But we’re not up on some cloud playing harps with the angels. (The angels have more important things to do, trust me.) We have buildings. We have mountains and lakes. But no Walmarts or McDonalds. It’s just like Earth.
Only infinitely better.
So after I crossed over, my next stop was the Past Lives Viewing Theater. A few of my friends dragged me there that first day. I say ‘day’ but really, time doesn’t exist over here. I won’t go into specifics, but let’s just say even Einstein’s mind was blown after he crossed over.
After I arrived at the theater, I was led by a man dressed in white down a long white hall to a large white room with a white chair. One thing you’ll notice after you get here, everything seems to be bathed in white. A glowing, almost blinding white. “How do you not bump into anything?” I asked my friends and they all laughed.
I sat down to face this gigantic silver screen, better than any HDTV at Best Buy. You’re probably familiar with surround sound? Well, this sucker had the fourth dimension built in. Not only could I see any of my past lives in full technicolor, but I could interact with any moment in any of those lives firsthand, like I was reliving it with all my senses intact.
Next time you do something really stupid or embarrassing, just remember this–it’s being recorded.
Makes you think twice about dancing naked while singing songs from Glee into your hairbrush, huh.
Oh, and the refreshments were killer. I was only on the other side mere moments and already I started to miss food. I wanted a big bucket of popcorn with melted butter. Boom. It was there beside me. I wanted a jumbo-sized blue-raspberry Slurpee. Bam. It appeared out of nowhere.
“Don’t worry,” said the man in white. “There are no such things as calories here. Dig in.”
I was loving this place already.
A few things I discovered while at the movies: I was once a housewife living in a log cabin on the prairie with eleven children in the 1800s, I was once a chambermaid for a filthy rich English family in the late 1700s, and I was once eaten by a black bear in Siberia in the year 1502.
Explained my lifelong aversion to kids, bears and cleaning.
While the Viewing Theater was a riot, and a few mysteries were finally solved, I was already wondering what would happen next. I mean, what did people do up here all day long?
So I’m dead. Now what?
“I think it’s time you meet with the Light,” the man in white said.
“Huh? How did you read my thoughts?”
“Remember, that’s how we communicate up here. No need for spoken language.”
“So you know everything I’m thinking.”
“It can be quite handy.”
“What am I thinking right now?”
“You’re singing that you like big butts and you can’t deny…can we proceed, please?”
“You are good.”
“So who’s this light person?”
“The Light. The Being. God. Y’know….the god/goddess of Everything…?”
“Sure. I’m game. Is he expecting me?”
“There is no ‘he’. Or ‘she’. The Light is both she and he. Or neither.”
“Right. Just like today is not today, tomorrow or yesterday?”
“Okay, if you say so,” I downed another Slurpee, watched it disappear into the ether that used to be my stomach and laughed. Whoa–no brain freeze! Makes sense, I have no actual brain anymore. Chuckling to myself, I turned to float back down the hall. Which to me was ridiculous, as I probably could have zipped straight through the walls since they–like everything else here–seemed transparent and buzzing with a crackling energy. It was all too much. My head felt dizzy. Well, if I still had a head. Now my body was more like a murky ball of vapor with fuzzy outlines. For a second, I caught myself wondering where I would put my cell phone.
Getting used to being dead is a process.
“I’m ready,” I sighed. “Just one thing–does this shapeless, formless, swirling vapor cloud of energy make my butt look big?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Man! I am so relieved humor exists up here! And where is that music coming from? Is that John Lennon I hear singing?”
“Yes. From time to time, you can hear him jamming with George Harrison down in the gardens.”
“I think I’m going to like it here.”
“You won’t be staying for long, I’m afraid.”