I remember it like one remembers a dream. Much like a dream one struggles to remember during the day, this place fades as I recount the experience.
I was standing in a meadow of grey. The sky was the dim grey of an overcast day, minus the clouds. The ground was covered in a faint grey mist that swirled around my ankles like a river flows around rocks. The air was stuffy yet clear, mimicking the air around a campfire on a clear summer night.
There was nothing and no one else around, except for a bench. A simple wooden thing like what you would find in a park. As the full realization of my vast aloneness settled hit, anxiety washed over me and panic rose in my chest. Vertigo climbed up my legs. I half sat half fell onto the bench. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.
“I like this bench.” His voice startled me. I looked at Him. The details of His features escape me now. However, I knew not to be afraid of Him. “It provides one rest while presenting a great view.” He spoke as if we were old friends. I looked in the direction of His gaze and was astonished to see a set of pearly double doors. Their starkness stood out in against the greyness, I was unsure how I had missed them before.
“Where is here?”
With my question ringing in my ears, He got up from the bench and stepped towards the doors. He turned the knobs and the doors opened. I can’t recall what compelled me to follow Him. Perhaps it was my own curiosity or the fear of being alone again. On the other side was a long white hallway. The walls on both sides of the hallway were lined with doors. Each door decorated with a different symbol. Some of them I recognized, most I did not.
The answer came suddenly, “You are dead. This is the Hall of Choice.” This should have invoked something in me. Some sort of sadness, fear, or even rage. But in His presence, I found nothing but calm.
“In this hall, there are many doors. Behind each door, is a different afterlife. Every afterlife that has ever existed is in this hall. And you get to pick what afterlife you want to move onto.” I was at a loss for words. “Do not fret. You do not have to choose right away. You are free to open each door and view what lies beyond.” He gestured to the doors closest to us.
“Why am I here?” My voice was shaky.
“You are dead.”
“No, no. Like why I am here, instead of one of the afterlives?”
“You had no loyalty to any religion, but still believed in something more.”
I paused momentarily to let this sink in before I began questioning Him, “Who are you?”
“A guide.” His answer simple and plain.
“No, I mean what’s your name? Where are you from?”
“I-,” There was a moment of hesitation, “I don’t recall my name or where I come from.”
I asked Him more questions. Every time, with a moment of hesitation and a voice of serenity, He would answer the same, “I don’t recall.” I only ceased the questions when He answered differently.
“I remember this place, this hall, and these doors.”
With this, I started my journey in finding my eternal home. Behind each door was a paradise of beauty and grace. There are no other words to describe what I saw. Each one was different from the last. And yet, I couldn’t decide.
Further down the hall, the doors started getting older. I noticed grey apparitions. Their forms like flurries of dust in a vaguely human-shaped body. Even with their featureless faces, each one seemed sad or angry.
“What are they?”
“Undecided. Possibly lost.”
“So, what happens to them?”
“They wander, unable to move on.”
His answer seemed apologetic, like He walked with some of them as He did with me now. Eventually we reached the doors for the different mythologies. Greek, Norse, Egyptian and more. I wasn’t sure I really believed these places truly existed. After opening each door and examining what was inside, none of them appealed to me.
I don’t know how long we walked or how many doors I opened. He started to slow his pace as the doors got older. He eventually slowed to a stop. The doors here were so old and ancient, I wasn’t sure they would open. The tone He spoke with was a mix of confusion and surprise.
“This… seems to be the end. It has been a long while since I’ve walked this far., if I ever have.”
“Wait. The end? But I haven’t decided.” Panic rose in my chest as I thought of the grey apparitions.
“You have seen into many doors.”
“I don’t want to choose the wrong one.”
“There is no right or wrong.” He was trying to calm me, “However, there are few doors left.”
I looked through the few doors that were around me. They were unfamiliar to me. I quickly peered into each one. I saw nothing I recognized, nothing I could even pretend to want. My panic rose until I noticed a door at the end of the hall.
“What about that one?” The door was so old and ancient, I feared it would crumble to dust at the slightest breath.
“I…” He hesitated, “I don’t know. I rarely find myself at the end of the hall, nor have I ever had someone choose that door.”
Without further thinking or hesitation, I reached for the handle. “I choose this one.”
Even as I write these words, the memory of this place starts to escape me. These words will be the last reminder of my life before reaching the end of the hall. The last grasp of my life before I started guiding others on the same journey. He guided me.