The last thing I honestly remember is everything going white and Chelsea being in the middle of the brightness. She is constantly in my focus and I cannot tell if I am dead or if I’m dreaming. Either way, I enjoy looking at her. I feel a foggy mist set over her face – I must be in a coma or almost dead.
My guide, my father.
He walks toward me, shakes my hand and tells me he is proud of me. I fall to my knees; I have to be dead, he guiding me to heaven. I look to him and place my forehead on our hands in front of us, “Dad please… I need to be with her, I need to go back to Chelsea,” I cry. He takes one hand away and pats my head, “Stand up son.”
I do so. “You will indeed go back, once you understand why you are here,” he speaks.
I let that sit in… I need to calm myself down and the o
