He opened his eyes and scanned the landscape around him. As he sought to recognise something, anything, a primeval fear began to engulf his senses. It was not as if something was not right, it was everything!
The sky was a filled with a pink tinge, almost like a sunset but different, the trees and fauna was not like anything he knew of. There were creatures in the air around him, but not birds, no wings, just huge expanded bodies that seemed to float rather than have any control over direction. More akin to puffa fish than any airborne animal.
Their was sounds too, but it was as if you were listening to a radio in a brand new luxury care, clear but at the same time muffled.
One such sound caught his attention, it overwhelmed him, a crying sound. One like no other he had experienced, this sound reached into him and as he looked towards its source he was hit with a realisation that all the books, the doctrines, the religions were true, not one but all, for before him was a being that was an angel, a warrior, a nymph, a cherub, a star, a tree, a rock, it was solid then liquid then a gaseous cloud. It changed through hundreds of forms as it moved towards him. It spoke not as in language, not with sound, but it spoke to him, it named him and recounted his life to him in memories. Its warmed him and he now felt safe.
It was at this point he finally knew he was dead.
Jonesy Dog of Socialism & the Trikerpoet 