The Wrong Tube

When I was a younger man, people knew me to be completely fearless. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. I still managed to be consistently employed but it was never a priority to me. I never married and, as far as I know, never fathered any children of my own. However, after some very odd events that happened to me, I asked my nephew where to share the perplexing experience I had so I could caution others. He led me to this website, Reddit, so I could tell you about the most surreal experience in a life chock full of uncanny happenings.

If you cannot already tell, I am an elderly man. I dreaded it, and still hate it, and all of the baggage it brings. My very active lifestyle ceased after I had my first heart attack, and from that point I was never the same. I still kept living, uneventfully but healthfully. It was torture to be kept in my home as a prisoner of my own geriatrics, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. In fact, I never wished it, but the effects of old age caught up to my worst enemy.

I was unexpectedly heartbroken when my father died, despite never getting along at any point in our relatively long lives. We had never agreed on any point, and I can only remember three times I told him I loved him, in contrast to the thousands of times we declared our hate for the other: when he married my sweet stepmother, on my fiftieth birthday, and the day my father died. His death turned out to be the literal final nail in my coffin as the loss of a belittling and snide, but nonetheless, constant figure in my life made me recognize my own mortality more than any heart attack ever could. A few days after his funeral, my kidneys and heart were found to be failing. I prepared a will for my beloved siblings and their children, and I settled all outstanding accounts. I planned my own funeral, including the purchase of an urn to keep my ashes in. Then exactly one year and a day after my father’s death, I died. I was declared legally deceased for three minutes and fourteen seconds before I was resuscitated and began my very speedy recovery. During those three minutes and fourteen seconds, I experienced the aforementioned run in with fate that I can never forget, even if in my decrepit older years I develop every memory ailment in the book. This could not be forgotten.

It was easy to recognize where I was. Not so much any sort of visual phenomena, but just a solid awareness that I was no longer alive, in the traditional sense. I could see myself, in spurts, as a wholly corporeal person. I can’t try to explain what else I went through immediately after my death because it just can’t be. It’s not bound by any colors, sounds, spaces, senses or sensation available to humans. All I knew was that I was no longer on Earth. Then, I snapped back into where I knew I needed to be.

I was sitting in a chair. An office chair, a few years older than any bleeding edge ones I had seen in schools and buildings. The rest of the area reeked of ‘average office’ in every sense of the word. Beige walls, unoffensive and abstract wall art, cheap carpets, particle board cubicles and fluorescent lighting surrounded me. I had a nagging sensation that where I was only looked like this because I was comfortable in this setting and perfectly at ease. I admittedly was, so I allowed my mind to continue this ruse. I heard my name called, and I got up from my seat in the cubicle and followed the beckoning, I entered an office, nothing out of the ordinary, which almost made it more odd. But there was something very off, a minute detail; the name tag on the desk simply said “Life”.

Behind me through the door came a portly man hefting a massive stack of papers.

“Take a seat, please.”

I obviously sat at the chair directly in front of “Life’s” desk. The portly man sat down and began to shuffle clumps of his papers and cough quietly under his breath. We sat there in conversational silence until he looked up from his work. Two eyes looked into, around, over and beside me without moving. I was surrounded by the gaze and I felt another of my frequent mental naggings. This wasn’t an amalgamation of every Chuck, Bob, and Stanley I had worked with, rolled into one small person-sized package. It was something else entirely.

“So, you’re dead. You know that already.”

“Yes, I certainly am.”

“I am Life. Plain and simple. I’ve tried every approach in the book on what to call myself, but I figure it’s just easiest like this.”

“Wouldn’t you be...”

“Death, the Grim Reaper, Satan, God, what-have-you. No, I’m not. Prepare for the shocker.”

“They aren’t real. None of them are.”

“Correct. There is only me. There ever has been, and only will be, me. I was your beginning, middle and end. Once we stop talking, I will be recycling your energy to go back into the physical plane. Follow?”

“Absolutely.”

“Wonderful. I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”

I was sure Life knew, but I had abandoned the concept of any higher power amidst my slow death. It wasn’t anything personal, but I barely believed before.

“So, I’m going to explain everything. Good and evil don’t matter, and are in fact, not even real. Each is a necessary half of a dueling element, Conflict, that maintains balance forever and always. It can’t be derailed and nobody will ever be able to.”

“You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“Millions of people have known this throughout your planet’s history and the afterlife, or lack thereof, is still a mystery to many. A lot of people are disappointed that a life full of good deeds will go unrewarded, but that’s unfortunately just as it goes.”

“The wheel keeps on turning, huh?”

“Yep, that’s right. Any more questions?”

“What are you?”

“Life. I can’t explain it any other way. It’s not able to be done.”

“What are those papers?”

“They are your life, lowercase, specifically. A final kind of consolation I give people is the option to go through any point in time in their entire life again. Do what you will with the information. You won’t remember it when you’re recycled, so take as much time as you like.”

I skipped around through some good and bad parts, dancing around ones with my father or family. I had lived with nearly no regrets, so I had little to review.

“Also, you can change events and see how they make your life play out differently. That’s possible, but much less popular. Many people don’t want to see their life any other way.”

I agreed with Life. I didn’t want to dwell on my failures or triumphs and how if they were switched what could have happened.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, Life, I am.”

“Once I stamp your file and you sign it, there is no return. Well, you can’t leave here to your old life, so onward and upward.”

Life’s disinterested tone what cut short when he read something in my file. He did the Look again and I felt vastly uncomfortable for the first time since I had arrived.

“You weren’t suicidal.”

“Correct.”

“You are early. I’m sending you back.”

I was suddenly filled with emotions on what was going to happen. Life seemed to shut up my thoughts by replying out loud to them.

“You will remember this, and share it if you like. Nobody will believe you, and even if they do, they can’t avoid me. Even when I make mistake/ like I did today, you will be back eventually. Everyone will be.”

With that, I woke up back in my hospital bed gasping for air. I felt my body slowly healing and my otherworldly sensation wearing off rapidly. Up to this day, I have waited my return to death and have returned to my free spirited lifestyle. You will most likely not believe me /nosleep, but what you do doesn’t matter. Whatever you’re doing is just part of Life, and Life is always there to get us in the end, so do whatever you want. None of it matters.

Submitted August 13, 2019 at 06:58AM by Parmabeast12 https://ift.tt/31zrWPl