Isn't it supposed to feel like love or something?
What it felt like-what it made her feel-was awe. The light was so big, so powerful . . . and so Just Plain Bright. It was like looking at the beginning of the universe. And she was rushing toward it so fast-it was filling her vision. She was in it.
The light encompassed her, surrounded her. Seemed to shine through her. She was flying upward through radiance like a swimmer surfacing.
Then the feeling of motion faded. The light was getting less bright-or maybe her eyes were adapting to it.
Shapes solidified around her.
She was in a meadow. The grass was amazing- not just green, but a sort of impossible ultra green. As if lit up from inside. The sky was the same kind of impossible blue. She was wearing a thin summer dress that billowed around her.
The false color made it seem like a dream. Not to mention the white columns rising at intervals from the grass, supporting nothing.
So this is what happens when you die. And now . . . now, somebody should come meet me. Grandpa Trevor? I'd like to see him walking again.
But no one came. The landscape was beautiful, peaceful, unearthly-and utterly deserted.
Gillian felt anxiety twisting again inside her. Wait, what if this place wasn't-the good place? After all, she hadn't been particularly good in her life. What if this were actually hell?
Or ... limbo?
Like the place all those spirits who talked to mediums must be from. Creatures from heaven wouldn't say such silly things.
What if she were left here, alone, forever?
As soon as she finished the thought, she wished she hadn't. This seemed to be the kind of place where thoughts-or fears-could influence reality.
Wasn't that something rancid she smelled?