A Rambling Tale

Snow-dusted trees materialize in your vision as you pass slowly beneath them. The current tugs at you, the river pulling you along. Oddly, you seem to be floating upstream. Your attempt to paddle your way to the shore is frustrated by your body which has changed into a translucent, amorphous mass. No matter how hard you try, you gain no purchase in the freezing water. In fact, they don't affect the water at all. No splash or ripple. You seem to pass right through it. Like like a ghost. That would explain why you don't feel the cold.

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  Your sense of self is strong. Despite your untimely and deserved death, you manage to coalesce your ectoplasmic matter into something resembling your old body.
• Your senses slowly dim, hiding the world from you. Worry not, it is your world no longer. Sheol, the land of the dead, opens her arms to you.