Tamara opened her eyes and found herself within in a realm of light and clouds. She was met by a man in a white robe who was apparently waiting for her.
The man was enormous, maybe 24 feet tall. His head was bald, his face was nothing but cotton whiskers.
He greeted her with a nod. Then he said, “Right this way, Tamara.”
And he began walking slowly onward. His feet were the size of jon boats.
“Wait,” Tamara said. “Where am I?”
He turned back. “If you would just follow me, please.”
“But I want to know where I am.”
No answer.
“Please tell me,” she insisted.
But he would not.
The man led her through a long corridor of more light, which led to another corridor, which led to 55 thousand more hallways.
Finally, they reached a tunnel that was made of glass. There was a sheen to this glass, sort of like a bubble from a vat of soapy water. Only this “bubble” was about the size of nine solar systems.
She jogged to catch up to him.
“Aren’t you going
to tell me where I am?” she said.
Apparently not.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?” she said. “That’s what this is all about. Because I remember lying in bed… I can remember closing my eyes, and—”
The giant interrupted. “You are not dead. There is no such thing.”
“Then where am I?”
Silence.
She glanced at the glass-bottom floor. She was adrift among the clouds, miles in the air. Beneath her toes was her hometown, and the natural landmarks she’d come to know on earth. Major highways. Trees. Rivers. Mountains. Canyons. The Gulf of Mexico.
They trudged for what seemed like a thousand miles. Or maybe it was only 12 feet. There was really no way to know, time and space sort of mushed together in this place.
Eventually, however, they reached a colossal archway.
They stopped…