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AWAKENING

My first day in Heaven was hell.

It started just the way you always hear: with a white light, very bright. But there was no choir of angels and I did not feel peace. On the contrary. Between my ears a blaring horn went off, accompanied by a splitting headache. Actually, it was more than just a headache—it was a body ache. The kind that cuts through you from every direction, splitting you apart with countless sharp knives, from the inside out. The kind that doesn't even allow you to scream. A grenade blowing up inside of you.

When I finally tried to push air through my lungs, to let out the massive pain, there was no air there; in fact, there were no lungs. There was only eternal emptiness, endless pain, and a white light penetrating through every pore, searing my soul.

I did the only thing I could do.

-"What was that?"

-"I blacked out."

When I woke again, everything was calmer. The white light was still there, washing over everything, but every now and then I could see signs of gray around it. The horn turned into an annoying but tolerable buzz. The pain was still there, but it was no longer the pain of a cut, but of healing. It even allowed other sensations to exist beside it. For example, I could feel myself breathing. There was a taste in my mouth. Not a good taste, but a taste.

I heard a voice next to me, but I couldn't understand the language. It was rather pleasant, yes, but I was annoyed that I couldn't understand a word of it. I tried to remember -

But I couldn't remember anything.

My past was white. My identity was a buzz. My present was pain.

I closed my eyes and the white light went out.

"Good morning." I heard the voice again.

I understood it!

I understood it.

I opened my eyes. The white light was still there, but it was no longer blinding. More like a general glow which shrouded the details. It was coming from the walls, emanating from the ceiling—there were no lamps on the ceiling, I pointed out to myself—and it created an angelic aura around the woman who had said good morning to me.

She, too, was very pale. She was also quite beautiful and mostly naked. Only three little pasties with a red cross painted on them made her ‘mostly’ naked. At first I thought they were tattoos—my vision was still blurry, so I didn't really notice where the white pasties ended and where the pale skin began. Only later did I discover this was her take on clothes.

And only later did I find out that she placed those on her body in order to look modest.

-"Really?"

-"Yes. But at that moment I just stared at her, fascinated. Over the general white background, she moved like a live, flowing, marble statue with eyes of deep indigo, a mouth the color of cherries, and three red and white pasties."

-"Just the way you like it."

-"Yes. She was also tall and well built. Not an ounce of fat, with hints of swimmers’ muscles, long and flowing. She came closer to me with a smile."

"Do you feel better?"

She leaned over me with a worried look. I was flooded by the rich aroma coming off of her, and for a moment I lost my focus. Her voice was exceptional, a harmony of different tones, warm and relaxing. She held a flowered teapot that gave off a wonderful smell, too. But who thought of tea at such a time?

I tried to tell her I was feeling better than before, but no sound came out of my mouth. Only smothered screeches of air.

"Don't exhaust yourself. It will come back to you in time. Here, drink."

She poured the tea directly into what should have been my mouth. It was hot and tasted good.

I blinked at her with gratitude.

"This will help you. Go to sleep now."

She put a warm and tender hand on my eyes and I faded to black.

MEMORY # 1

It was not total rest.

It was constantly being interrupted. Rips of thoughts. Fragments of memories. Unclear images. Like a nightmare-filled sleep, when you don't really feel awake—but you know the reality around you is not fake. But there were some clear things.

The mist came, the mist went away. I remembered a beautiful woman with warm eyes and brown hair. She looked at me closely, her eyes taking me in joyfully. All of a sudden I felt better. Calmer. I giggled. It was a baby's giggle. I reached a hand to her and the hand was that of a baby as well. Was I a baby? The hand touched her lips; she parted her lips and let my hand in. A flow of new sensations took me over. Warmth. Moist. Wonder. Joy. Lots and lots of joy.

I heard a baby's giggle. It was very close to me. Where? I looked around but didn't find it. Perhaps behind me? No. The baby giggled again. I giggled again. I was the baby and the baby was me. The pretty lady made funny faces at me and laughed and laughed and laughed. "Mommy," I thought. She was Mommy.

A man joined Mommy. A large man with thick brows and a crooked nose. "Daddy," came the thought. He looked at me as well and smiled. But he made me sad. Cold. He said something to the woman and she looked at him and they exchanged words. I didn't understand the words, but I knew they were talking to me. The man reached over and stroked my head. It was pleasant too, but still had an overtone of sadness. I knew he wouldn’t be there with me later on. It was Daddy. And Daddy wasn't there. There was a feeling like something bad was about to happen.

The mist came, the mist went away.