I was in a room, filled with white blue light. I stood and was instructed to approach a table that rested magestic, cool, a few hundred meters in front of me. A box, I learned, not a table. A box, made of aluminium plates, light, long and firm.
The room was vast, breezy, light. It was flanked by large tall windows that made up walls. The roof was not visible, it was, light filled. Textiles spread at random on the floor, with only two sheets just below the box, over the stone gray floor. Chiffon white curtains flowed.
The instruction to me was: "approach the table and once there look inside, lift what you find, and to carry it over to the textile sheets and let it rest on the ground." I could see the long lush two layers of sheet resting on the stone.
I was warned not to "be surprised or become emotional about what you will see. It will shake you, profoundly, but let it be, so go in there, observe and carry out the task."
And so I did. I walked towards the box. I got close. I leaned and got to peak over a long bed of water and an ocean that contained my dead body resting on it. There, I lied. Eyes closed. There, dead.
I stayed and observed. Looking at my body made of a mixture of ice and light, of water and stone, breathless, eyes closed. I laid there without a single breath, without movement. And I got to see something of myself that I haven't seen before.
In sudden, air escaped. A last breathe, the last death. Then, breeze and tranquillity. Midsummer in, with the wince, let air out. Once, twice. Be done.
And so I and I extended my arms. I made a claw with my arms to grasp my body, my arm went under my legs, the other under my back. And looking directly into the closed eyes, across the torso and naked legs, I picked me up, over and carried me down. And then I let me rest on the ground on the sheets, on the fresh cold stone.
And I walked away backwards. Looking intently towards my dead body. Strangely just trying to understand how is it that I have died yet I'm still alive.
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