When people imagine dying, most assume disease wearing down their faculties or a violent end of some kind. I am one of the lucky individuals who died in their sleep, I know this because I remember going to bed and nothing else. I woke up here, in what appears to be the afterlife, exteremly confused yet still calm despite my circumstances. I saw two rivers intersecting; one was as literal of a river as possible in this ephemereal place, while the other was figurative, being made up of souls, passing through the 'waters' of the other flowing stream. I saw a huge ball submerge itself in the flow and everything rushed back to me at once.
I remember this place, I remember souls, and most importantly: I remember coming here after my past lives. That 'ball' was the soul of a diety, which I could tell because of the size. Even gods die. I begin to be pulled by an unknown force towards the river, just as it happened the other hundred or so times. This time however, I felt less than amicable towards the thought. My last life had changed me more than most before it, I experienced so much suffering and I was not keen on repeating that anytime soon.
"Come on, Let me go! No, I won't go back. Not yet!"
My efforts had little to no effect, and I was right next to the flowing stream of memory erasure. I decided to try something that was most likely counter-productive to my desires, hoping it might work.
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"Fine, you want me to go through the river? I'll go through it!"
This sounds stupid, but sorting through my memories I noticed that certain souls that are bigger tend to spend more time crossing to the other side. If I'm right, then it might be that it takes time to remove our memories. Even if it's unlikely to work, I don't have any other options.
I ready myself, knowing this would probably be an unpleasant experience. I stop resisting the pull, and instead put all of my will in to my forward momentum. I plunge myself forward, immediately feeling my 'mind' slowly being stripped away. The sensation was unlike anything I experienced in any of my lives, but I was still aware enough to know why I was there and that I needed to hurry. I don't take any time appreciating that I was right in my assumption, simply moving forward with single minded determination before what remains of myself is gone.
Almost.... there.....
"made it"
I was tired, as if my very existence was struggling to maintain itself and was draining my energy to do so. But I made it across intact.
"wait, why am I still moving?"
I was, in fact, moving. Being dragged against the nonexistent ground towards the final light that would lead to my reincarnation.
All of that work, for nothing. I hate it... I HATE IT. I HATE IT SO MUCH.
I could feel my will trembling, before I steadied my emotions.
No, I refuse.
As I passed through the chasm of existence, one thought was on my mind.
" I'll be back, and sooner than you think."
Then it all went white.