The first thought that ran through my head was "Who is this woman? I've never seen her in my life, why is she visiting me?"
I am you.
Almost immediately, that thought ran through my head. I knew it came from her, but her mouth never moved and it was in my voice. But... I am you? What?
You are dead, I am dead.
I should've seen it coming, I am 82... Such an ugly number. So why is this beautiful woman me?
I am you when you were happiest. Come with me.
Why?
You will be me. I will be the happiest me there ever was.
How? Death is such a miserable place, I can't talk or feel anything, I can't even cry about how miserable my life was. All I want is to go back to being real. There really is life after death, and it's hell.
I will it. I am already coming along.
I see, but that's not quite what I think though. Don't I still have lingering regrets? What about the fact that I never got to experience all that I ever wanted in life, why can't I just go back and live? *Why? *
Because I am dead. There's no going back for me. Do I really want to continuing such a dreadfully old life?
...
No.
Don't worry, I will be real again. Tangible. Touchable, breathable, all those feelings.
I want to feel desirable again,
I want to feel irritable again. How?
Come with me.
Okay,
I will.