Don’t Go to the Light

Frank Maddish
7 min readJul 4, 2020

I mean, you can if you want to, that’s what most people do, they die, they see the Light, their soul’s processed in the grinder, and then they come back here again.

There is another place, asides from Earth, which is all there is as far this construct goes. Dimensionally speaking, the third is the turd, its extremely limited in what you can do, and eventually, everything degenerates and decays.

As a matter of fact, they’ve been filling places for decades, stand-ins for humans with no connection to the Light. They are here but nowhere else, locked in their dreamless minds, untethered from an inner voice, contained in the bubble we call Earth. Hence so many atheists are resigned to the fact that when they die, there’s nothing left. Technically, that’s the truth for the soulless, when their body dies nothing remains, and there’s nobody to cross over to the afterlife.

So anyway, if you’ve forgotten, the other place is warm and dark, where all you are is consciousness, floating in a perpetual dream. There’s nothing to see and nothing to do, except for being, existing in a continuous existential state of emotional intellect and spiritual awakening.

The biggest problem with the other side, and I mean the one just outside the proverbial gate, is boredom. Dull minds breed dull souls and drain from the collective consciousness, which is why there’s the Light, a rather recent invention, relatively speaking, considering the age of the universe. It’s not actually a tunnel or a door, it’s more like a screen, like a giant TV.

A lot of stragglers panic, they haven’t considered anything but their mortal existence in decades, especially for those who die young, sudden and unexpectedly. They’ll spend the first few days, although time is an illusion, metaphorically kicking the can along the road. They’ll complain about how they wanted to get so many things done, a word to the wise, we all feel like that at first.

So if they can’t settle down into their eternal existence, and create their own universe, a platform of like-minded psyches crafting a realm that suits their needs, then they can sit in front of the TV and watch what’s going on in their old life. That’s usually enough to put anyone’s fears to rest, they see the funeral, people moving on, and they give up on the whole idea. Sometimes it can be a real eye-opener, a total shock to the system, a wake-up call that their stint on Earth was a complete waste of time and effort.

For some, they’re done, at least for a while, but for others, well, they can’t kick the habit. The obsessive types try to jump straight back in and pick up from where their last life left off, although that never works out for the best. There’s a waiting list, and you can’t be anyone you like, some people live a thousand years as slugs just for a stab at fame and glory. Hence all the egomaniacs down here.

Some try a completely different tack, and leave it a while, and skip a few wars and wait for the dust to settle. My other half wanted to see the fireworks at the end of this epoch, the collapse of the West and modern civilisation. As everybody tried to explain to them before we returned, history is messy, and times and events bleed over hundreds of years. Despite there being no definite beginning or end to anything, but my soulmate was adamant, and so I came along for the ride.

I’m a little out of practice, which is more than evident if you realised what a mess, I’ve made of my most recent life. I suppose I’m not really that invested. You might call me a cheater because I smuggled in a few memories from the other side. But for what’s it’s what I try to keep an eye on my soulmate, (yes, they do exist), I’ve got their back and will do so until the day I die.

Earth is so scary now. It’s quite a damaging experience for sensitives like me, who kept their settings intact from their last stint in purgatory. Create purgatories like airports, except anybody can open one, a collective consciousness stabilises an environment from plundered memories and dreams, creating a persistent state for others to come and go as they like.

I spent years stuck in a recurring dream during my twenties. It was an airport filled with the dead. Eventually, I found my way out and have never been back. The irony is, thinking back on it now, I probably helped create that place when I was dead. That, at the very least, is one compensation for spending a life on Earth, (and yes it will cost you, the price due is karma, but the infractions are nothing to do with human law). Living here gives you a unique angle on your accomplishments in the afterlife, and when I return, I’ll be making a few suggestions, some improvements to my airport. A video arcade would be nice, plus more stringent checks for lucid dreamers, however convincingly they may act like their dead.

Here’s the lowdown, in case you haven’t been informed, if you’re conscious, a traveller from beyond, and not just a human animal, not a mundane drone, then be forewarned, this is your last vacation on Earth for a while. They’re closing the gates soon. They’re shutting down the TV. This place is going to be out of bounds for at least several centuries, maybe a millennium. The religious types think they know why, but it isn’t that, it’s a numbers game, to make this many people, they’ve been slicing souls and sharing them out.

It might sound fair to the collectivists, but when you’ve lived for tens of thousands of years, and you’ve collected the memories I have, you’d rather stay intact. Heaven’s gate is as vast as the sky, but the way back here is shrinking by the day, which is why there are so many visitors here at the moment, the dead, the dreamers, the tourists from the other side. Those who couldn’t make it are watching TV, some even lean in too far, and try to speak to the living.

The voices in your dreams are real, as real as you or I, and they live on forever in the warm void, the place where I belong. To be more precise, I am from the blue borders of the purple spectrum, where beings of infinite wisdom live within a crystal cavern. They feed their young from pools of liquid light, and they can see us in our dreams as we pass by, but they won’t communicate with the living. In this state, the human being persists in brief and inconsequential lives. We are too base, too literal, too superficial for their tastes, for they see all time and space, while we exist in the moment.

Not long now, I hope, before I can return home, and forget this place for a while. When our work is done, and we have recorded as much data as we can, we will leave this construct dimension to the devices of the mortal and material man. Those who believe in nothing but what they can see, hear, touch, or what they’ve been taught by other smart monkeys how to think. It’s such a shame, there’s so much I could say, but all of it falls on deaf ears.

I pity the human race and what it has become and how it has turned in on itself. Those who now suffer for the crimes of others, those are the target of the self-righteous, fear not, you don’t belong here, you needn’t follow their rules. Think freely, but don’t speak, don’t even agree, the survivors of this destitute construct need no more encouragement. They are waiting for us to go, the last of life’s great observers, so they can begin the feast and devour each other and all of humanity’s paltry achievements throughout history.

It’s such a sad time, a drab and dowdy period of broken lineage — a place filled with anger and ineffectuality, fuelled by the whims and fancies of a bitter elite. Let them have their cake and eat it, every crumb for their gullets, those still alive inside no that there is nothing here for us, we are free to go at any time we like. But be warned, suicide might seem a viable option, but it causes so much grief both here and on the other side.

Imagine what it’s like to smuggle yourself across the border, that’s what’s it like, you can’t prove who you are, or even remember, and if there are loved ones over there, in the afterlife, they might not even recognise you. Because after all, we’re nothing more than spheres of light, a ball of emotions some good and some bad, carefully balanced like a potion, to our exact requirements. Personality might seem fleeting, but I’ll tell you what, out of everything I’ve lost in my long and tiring existence, that’s about the only thing that I can still recognise.

In conclusion, if you go to the Light, do it soon, suffer the consequences and come back to terra firma. But be warned, this place is a zoo, and the keepers want to repurpose it into an abattoir.

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Frank Maddish

A homespun philosopher looking for meaning in a meaningless world.