I had a strange dream after I fell asleep in my lovely sand-brick-cactus. In the dream, I could see myself. It was like I was looking down on myself; as if my current self was floating above my dream self. I saw myself in a weird looking place; a place weirder than even the afterlife. I was in a field of golden, shimmering grass, facing and talking to another person, a kind of intense looking guy. It was hard to hear what I was saying to this person from my lofty perch, but it did look like I was getting agitated. My mother always said that whenever I got agitated, I'd stretch out my arms to try and look bigger. I always thought she was poking fun at me but wow, yeah, it seems I actually did do that.

"What kind of wild animal was I trying to scare away?" Is what I thought when I saw myself that first time. The other person didn't seem phased by me though. A very formidable wild animal, I'd say. I was able to get a good view of what the people were wearing. I was wearing the same outfit I was wearing in the afterlife, that is, my white button-up shirt and my comfy khaki pants. The other guy was a blonde wearing all black, his shirt wasn't totally buttoned up so I could see a bit of the guy's bare chest, even from as far away as I was. This guy was definitely one of those really confidant types that'd inspire a person to want to be more confident themselves. Thinking back on him now, I recall that I felt he was a kind of sinister seeming guy as I looked on him from above. I wonder what we were talking about. The scene seemed really nostalgic; it felt like it happened yesterday.... Actually, it felt like it happened right before I woke up in the afterlife. Was it my final dream? Maybe I didn't die instantly, maybe I was slowly dying for a bit, and my brain was in overdrive trying to give me some kind of nice scene.

I lay there in the same position I fell asleep in, totally distracted by my fleeting recollections. Thinking about the dream felt so alluring; it felt like there was something worth remembering in it. The dream felt so magical. In a way, I wanted to fall asleep again just to see if I'd get to watch the dream play out again. It was a strange feeling; it was a short exchange but I found myself hoping that maybe I could see it again and maybe I could get the chance to hear it. Maybe I could inch closer and closer with every successive attempt? In my mind, it felt possible.

"You made a weird world, Lord." I said with a sigh.

It was the first thing I spoke out loud since I woke up, and after pondering a bit I continued, "It's messed up to have a dead man wishing he could go to sleep so he can revisit a dream."

I aired out what I was feeling and looked towards the sky, at which point I finally noticed that the strange sky was almost obscured by a sandstorm. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice there was a rather extreme weather phenomena occurring outside, not to mention that it seemed like it was darker outside.

The sand thankfully wasn't pouring into my makeshift shelter, don't ask me how that works, but I was still in awe at how I didn't notice the howling wind that accompanied the storm. Said wind may even have been what woke me up from my strange dream in the first place.

"I don't like you!" I lobbied my complaint at the ongoing storm from the safety of my sand repellent cactus before realizing that I had to make a correction, "Oh not you Lord! I'm talking to the sandstorm." I yelled and paused for a bit, wondering how much information a god would need. "It ruined my dream!" I decided to play it safe and not assume that the Lord of the afterlife knew what I was thinking.

"This is a pretty miserable existence," I said out loud again as I reflected on my current situation. "I'm in a scorching desert, but I find shade, and I get to sleep, and have a weird dream that I really enjoy for reasons I can't fully fathom, but then get woken up from that by a noisy storm," I take a second to make sure I didn't miss a notable factor. " It's not overtly ruining my time, but it's just kind of unpleasant. And also kind of sadistic. I mean, yeah I got shelter, but it's so small that I have to be in this really awkward uncomfortable position if I want to be fully covered."

I look outside and hear the howling wind and the sand scraping against the sand cactus.

"Okay, I'm lying, it's actually very comfortable. I fell asleep faster than a tuckered out kid who just devoured turkey dinner... Yeah I can't really tell what kind of experience I'm supposed to be having here."

I ruminated on the thought for a bit longer. I wasn't suffering to an extraordinary degree yet, but I wasn't exactly in the most life friendly place. I wondered what type of lesson I was supposed to take away from this. On the plus side, maybe this implied that I didn't live that terrible of a life in light of how not terrible the experience was. Maybe I just lived a modestly unpleasant life. At that thought, I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my sand cactus. A small breath escaped my lungs. The thought that I wasn't the worst during my life, gave me a moment of relief, and a tinge of happiness. The reprieve from guilt seemed to have freed up some mental resources because the thought immediately occurred to me,

"What am I wearing?"

I immediately looked down while still on my back. I was wearing the same outfit I was wearing during my dream, the same outfit I wore on the plane. The strangest thing about my outfit was how undamaged it was. Although I suppose it would be even more unreasonable to expect that clothing damage would carry over to the afterlife. That was rather comforting, however, that you wouldn't just get dropped in the afterlife buck naked. That was a person friendly feature. I wondered, if I had been a worse person, would I have woken up here with only a fig leaf to cover my unmentionables?

I shuddered at the thought. Still undamaged clothing, that looks and feels exactly like my original set was kind of unsettling to think about. I had a thought as I followed the thought down the trail.

"Could I change my outfit with my imagination?" The idea didn't seem that outlandish. Here I am with a white shirt that was dirtied only by the dirt I was sleeping on, nary a scar that implied it survived a plane crash. Was it outlandish to think that this wasn't a normal outfit? I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated. An outfit that looked different. Maybe a white tee and shorts, with maybe a cape because, why not? I feel like a cape was right in that sweet spot of "It could be useful but not useful enough to improve my quality of life". I lay there for a few minutes thinking so hard I gave myself a headache. I finally opened my eyes and to my surprise, I saw the same white shirt, khaki pants, and no brand shoes I had when I came here.

"I am figuring out the rules to this place." I said to myself, trying to draw something of value from this experience.

Still, thinking about my clothing reminded me of a thought I had before I went to sleep, "Did my brain actually get fried in the desert heat?"

I looked back on my behavior from before my sleep. The more time passed, the more it felt like I was riding a high initially. Hosting a show, yelling at the sky, not taking proper stock of my surroundings and my situation; these weren't things I would do if I was alive. I wouldn't say I was even that loud of a person. In some ways it didn't feel like the "myself" that I became acquainted with over my twenty-two years of life. But the feeling of the discrepancy only reared its head when I consulted my memories. Right now, I felt that who I was, was natural. That said, I was still concerned over my lack of proper judgement and strategy.

As I was thinking that, the basics necessities for survival rattled like a rusty hand-bell in my mind, "I don't have food! Or water!"

The realization made me heart race, my mind was going a hundred miles per second to match. How true to life is the afterlife? I sat up, facing the inner wall of my humble nest, my hand on my chin, obscuring my mouth, my eyes opened as wide as an owl's.

"This is dangerous, how long can I go without food? Some thirty odd days? And water? Maybe ten days," I muttered through my hand trying my best to think through my situation. "No, no, I'm in a desert; my hydration needs are going to be more severe. How much water have I already lost?"

I touched my forehead to get a sense of how much water I may have already sweated out.

"Wait, can a dead man even sweat? Does a dead man need to drink?"

I realized I had gone in a full circle back to where I started; the question of how true to life the afterlife is. I needed to figure out an answer to that question first. I thought back to my time here; I remembered that I was definitely sweating more than a cold glass on a summer day when I was running to my cactus. I'm very sure of that despite my apparent dryness now. Why would there be a need for a dead man to sweat? Where did that water come from and what happens when it runs out? Furthermore, what is the point of having all this heat if there isn't a consequence attached to it? Was it just here to make me miserable? But why, or how exactly does the heat cause me to be miserable? Well, when I was outside, I felt like I was getting dizzy, I felt hot and my skin stung the same way it would when you're developing a sunburn. At the thought of the sunburn, I took a quick aside from my train of thought to check my skin.

"Yup, I am definitely getting a tan."

Rather pleased to see I was losing the near vampire like paleness I cultivated through years of playing video games and knitting indoors, I returned to my original thought. I'm suffering the expected consequences of being in a desert, so what would be the point of having those features of a desert experience be present and not have the consumption needs to be present? It would be silly to let a dead man get away with not eating or drinking when someone had already gone so far to make the person's afterlife miserable. Then again, I remembered myths about a special hell where people were forced to repeat some task they could never accomplish. Like having to roll a boulder to the top of a hill, but the boulder always slips and rolls back down when you're inches from your goal. If water and food are requirements for continued life, it would make sense that the architect of this prison would void the consequence of "loss of life" if they wanted the experience to be endless. A chill ran up my spine. What if this is a place where you are hungry, but can never sate, where you thirst but can never quench. Death would be the release from those two states but if death is impossible, you are forever doomed to thirst and hunger, while also having to nurse a diabolical sunburn. But.... it couldn't be that sadistic could it? I wouldn't know until I felt the first pangs of hunger or thirst. But how long has it been that I still feel fine?

I looked back outside to see the storm still raging. The chill from earlier made me recall that deserts are notorious for being cold at nights. But the only chill I was feeling was that of my own fear. The ambient air seemed ambivalent to my thought of what was typical. It was cooler than earlier but not cold. Actually it was much more consistent with the temperature of an autumn night. Maybe the afterlife desert is more temperate instead of extreme like the deserts from the land of the living. At this point I could only hope and be optimistic; I just didn't have enough empirical data to say otherwise; I only had one day here after all!

Staring at the blowing sand, I formulated a plan in my mind. Once things settle, I'll do a quick scout around to see if I can find anything edible or any water. It's strange to think of needing water or food in this situation but what do I know of how the afterlife operates? Before this, I just thought I was headed for a black abyss of nothing. In some ways, I think I would've preferred that option, but now wasn't the time to moan and groan. I needed to be proactive to make sure I was in the best condition possible to figure out the rules to this ordeal and mayhaps make it a bit more bearable for myself.

"Is trying to make myself comfortable even allowed here? Haha, huh Lord, got any answer for that one?" I laughed my question out but all I heard back were the echoes of my dying laugh dancing off my cactus' walls. I waited a few more minutes in silence holding out for the possibility that I would hear something aside from the howling wind, but alas nothing but the waning wind wandered into my ears. The silence was appreciated however, since I was able to notice that it sounded like the storm was dying down.

I turned myself around so that I sat facing the desperate hole I dug, towards the waning storm. I then quickly turned around again. I was reminded of the saying that "A watched pot never boils" and was terrified that if I watched the storm it would go for an eternity. I know; not the most rational fear, but I didn't want to risk it. It would be the most foul and depressing "rule" I could discover in this afterlife. Maybe I'll only watch weather phenomena when it actually benefits me, like rain. If it rained and I had containers, with which I could collect the rain water, I would be in a much better position than I would be now.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I need to make cups. Maybe clay cups." I spoke aloud my ideas, comforting myself with the thought that the gears in my head seemed to be turning again.

With the sandstorm still going outside, I didn't really want to risk contending with and losing to it, but just sitting around seemed like a waste of time, and I definitely didn't feel like going back to sleep. It only seemed logical to try and get something constructive done. So, I started trying to dig at the floor of my cactus. My thought was, "There might be clay underneath here or something." I'm not all too familiar with deserts and what's where beneath the sand but what else could I do at the moment.

What I didn't expect, however, was how painful it would be; it was more painful than digging into the cactus wall. In the few minutes I spent digging into the sandy floor, I realized, beneath the maybe four to six inches of sand, was a dirt much harder than the sand that made the cactus. I examined my fingers in the dark; thankfully my eyes had adjusted well enough that I could make out the they weren't bleeding but I could feel that they were rubbed raw. I was curious what I could have run into so quickly, and then I questioned how strange it was that there was so much soft sand inside of the cactus, but because that was a benefit, I didn't want to complain too much lest I lose it. Can never be too sure about how much comfort the afterlife is willing to ruin.

"The ground under the sand is hard. Maybe too hard to just to try to tear throw with bare hands."

I was quickly growing accustomed to listening to myself speak; I would speak, listen, then speak in response. It was like someone else was here, and that alleviated the solitude somewhat.

"If I found a rock, I could maybe use the rock to bash and break up the tougher earth. But the question is, how do I find that rock?"

I looked around, double checking that I didn't miss a serendipitous, well placed rock anywhere. I scanned the interior about as well as I could in this darkness. I looked at the wall and wondered if I could just make due with the bricks that made up the wall.

"But I dug through them so easily the first time."

I cocked my head to the side as I looked to the wall wondering just how I was able to dig through the wall when the storm outside wasn't able to knock it down.

"Oh, whatever. It's probably just some weird force allocation physics." I looked back to the sand floor. "I could spend some time clearing out the sand; this time the whole floor instead of just digging a hole in one focused spot."

Hearing my words, I nodded on the spot. My next course of action was going to be simple, I was going to move the sand out of the cactus. In doing so, I would be able to see the floor better and if the Lord of the afterlife is kind to me, I'll find a rock..... Or a pick-axe. I would be very grateful if there happened to be a pick-axe under all this sand.

The premiseof a pick-axe lit a fire in me; I was shoveling sand out of the cactus to the best of my abilities. The sand wasn't that deep and I hadn't even dug ten handfuls of sand yet, but sweat was already dripping into my eyes. The sweat's sting forced me to wipe the sweat aside, like a reflex, but because my fingers were dirty, I stopped myself to make sure I used the back of my hand. As I struggled to wipe the sweat out of my eye, I noticed a peculiarity.

"Wait."

I hastily placed my hand against my brow, and felt how wet it was. I was sweating much more than I should have been.

"It's hot, was it always this hot?"

I wondered again if I had a lapse in judgement and missed my surroundings but this time I'm sure I hadn't. It wasn't this hot a few minutes ago. It wasn't hot before I started digging. But now? It felt as if it was getting hotter by the second.

"Is it in my head?" I wondered aloud while checking all over my body and confirming I was drenched in sweat everywhere.

"Am I having a panic attack? Or am I going into shock?"

My question was answered by the roar of an intensifying sandstorm. The sand that was previously, lightly tapping against the cactus like a drizzle was now pounding against the wall like it was being blasted out of a cannon. And the wind wasn't about to be out done, its roar was still climbing. And as the wind climbed, somewhat paradoxically, it became hotter. I was on the floor, on all fours, panting like an old dog after a run. Except maybe louder, and maybe not succeeding at actually catching my breath.

The air was hot now too and every gasp for air made me cough it right back out in response. Short, shallow breaths were all I could manage, while clutching my stomach, hunched over, with my covered knees the only thing making contact with the hot sand. Meanwhile, the heat was still increasing. I fell over onto the ground face first with a yell, even my ally, the previously cold sand had betrayed me and was burning my skin.

"Ahhhhghh!!!"

The pain made me yell out whatever sliver of air I was able to steal before I fell. The sudden searing pain forced my clarity into my mind. I grit my teeth and pushed all the strength I had in my body down my arms, into my palms and pushed my body off the sand and back onto my feet, staggering backwards because of the sudden force and uneven ground, my back was caught by the wall of the cactus.

"Am I going to die again? Like this?"

I admonished myself for talking aloud out of habit as soon as I heard myself. Even now when I was gasping for air, I was still fooling around. While I was caught in my thoughts, I kept gasping for air and slowly noticed that with every gasp I was slowly able to breathe deeper and deeper.

"Either," I gasped between every word, now that I could afford to take meaningful breaths, and restarted my train of thought, "Either, hell's letting up on the heat, or I'm so far gone I'm done haha."

The thought of my demise made me chuckle a bit but the moment of levity let me focus on my surroundings with a little bit clarity. The temperature did seem to be cooling off, the wind wasn't roaring as loudly and the sand wasn't battering the cactus as aggressively. It was still hot enough that I was losing water faster than normal but if it was a sudden temperature spike, it stands to reason that it will return to the comfortable temperature.

I rested my head against the wall along with my body. It was strange; the sand on the floor was infernally hot, but the sand cactus stayed cool.

"How much of a hero can you be cactus?" I said hoping that maybe my friend the cactus would respond back but alas nothing came.

With the world around me calming down now, my attention shifted back to my body. The left side of my face stung, as did my palms; the sand must have burned them more than I expected. Unfortunately for me I was still dripping in sweat, and that sweat was dripping onto my fresh burns making sure I wasn't about to just wave them away.

Gently rubbing my fingers together, I could feel that there was a lot of sand mixed into the freshly seared skin.

"If there's sand in my hands, there's probably sand in my face... I'm going to need to find water."

I quietly contemplated my next course of action, trying to distract myself from the burn. The temperature was dropping again but not very quickly, it still felt hotter than the daytime. I noticed that I couldn't hear the sand tapping against the wall anymore and peered my head to the hole I made. Outside, I could see the sky, or at least what I thought was the sky. I carefully scampered outside, trying to avoid rubbing the burn against any of the coarse sand, taking only a few sharp breaths when I failed.

Once outside, I fell to my knees and looked straight up. The weather was calmer now and the scene was surprisingly uplifting. Tears snuck out of my eyes as I was looking up through the still floating, sparkling, dust like sand and towards the sky. It was a bit of a strain on the eyes but I could still see the sky well enough to be able to tell that it was all around a darker shade of blue. Surprisingly, it was a bright night. There was a faint silvery light that gently illuminated everything, and even with the ambient dust, I could still see maybe thirty or forty feet ahead of me. And the best thing of all was that there was a gentle cool breeze coming from my right blowing everything away slowly but surely. The sand still radiated heat, yes, but that godsent breeze dried my sweat, my tears, gently soothed my burns and cooled me down. Yes, it still brought fine grains of sand with it, but I vastly preferred mischievous sand drifting into my mouth over blazing sand that threatened my bare skin.

"Hey, what was that, Lord?", I asked and nothing came.

My hands were resting on my knees, slowly losing the firm grip I had on my knees. I kept looking up at the obscured with weary eyes, my head unsteady.

"For a second I thought this was going to be an okay afterlife. But then that happens." I took a weary breath and continued, "Is that gonna happen everyday? I don't think I'll make it," I asked and nothing came again.

"Earlier, I thought I'd have a few days but I don't.", my head bobbed more, each time it fell too low and my eyes closed, I'd see what I wanted the most, and I'd snap myself back to lucidity.

It seemed the rapid dehydration got to me and made me crave it so much I could see it when I closed my eyes. I shook my head, and looked back to the sky, with palms facing up beseeching whatever cruel lord ruled this domain, "Come on, I need water! At least!" and again, nothing came, or so I thought.

I jumped to conclusions a bit too soon because as I was staring at the sky, I felt something wet running across and off my palms. Still looking at the sky, the cold running sensation forced my eyes to react and me to blink, as I tried to regain my sense.

This wasn't some kind of cruel joke right? I wasn't just hallucinating right? I clenched my teeth and tried to hold back the tears as well as I could and prepared myself to be dissapointed. I closed my eyes and looked down at my palms and opened them again. Right there in my palms, like magic, water was pouring out peacefully.

"Waaaa- waaa- ooohh," I struggled to get the words out as I brought my palms closer to my face.

I was thirsty but I was more confused by what was occurring. I oriented my palms in all directions, but the water kept flowing and pouring off my hands as dictated by gravity. That was the extent of my curiosity though. Was it safe, was it clean, was it actually water? That didn't matter; I was already having it gush into my throat, aided along by gravity. I alternated between which palm was right above my gaping mouth just because I could. The water was cool and refreshing as if a goddess of comfort had been pouring it into my mouth herself. Every time I switched palms, the water fell over my body and while gulping it down, I made sure to savor every drop that blessed my skin. Only after knowing that absolute torturous tribulation of a heat spike could I appreciate this water so thoroughly. Every gulp, mysteriously seemed to refresh and reinvigorate me. It was like all the stress I accumulated, was being washed away by this magical water.

I fell onto my back and onto the hot sand after a few minutes. The sand's heat triggered the pain from the burn on my face as if in resonance.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that haha." I

grimaced a bit at the pain that had returned in full force. Strangely enough my palms, which suffered worse, were not as painful. There was still an outpouring of water from my palms; maybe that was why I couldn't feel the burns as much.

"Well I've got the water, I might as well use it."

I lifted my palm over the left side of my face, and let it pour over my fresh burns. The pain alleviated a tad but I wondered about the sand that stuck to that side of my face. I braced myself and with my left hand as the main pourer and with my right hand, ran my fingers through my damaged skin making sure to shuffle out any sand grains. I could feel the unevenness of my skin and I worried of how ugly I might look now. Would I even recognize myself if I looked in the mirror?

"Typical. Got water and I'm immediately back to thinking about stupid things," I returned to berating myself for silly thoughts.

"I should have at least have said thanks first, huh Lord?"

I was feeling appreciative at the moment, all my asking and I finally got something; I actually got something. The Lord might have been playing a cruel game of getting my hopes up and then plunging me into tribulations but I was back to believing that the Lord wanted me to have a fighting chance here.

"Well, what should I do now?" I asked again to see if a sign would come, but it seemed we had returned to the norm.

It was nighttime, or at least, it looked like it was nighttime, I had water pouring out of my palms and I felt strangely relaxed. I rested my hands back down onto the sand. I was laying down on the sand, my face feeling a little bit better, with my arms totally extended and now resting on the sand, with my palms facing up, and looking straight at the sky that was slowly coming back into full view, and nary a thought came to mind.

"Hmm. It would be a waste to just go back to sleep."

I brought my hand up to my chin again as I was pondering my next move. I couldn't finish the motion however because I realized my palms were still pouring water.

"Okay, this is going to have to stop."

My annoyance spiked because of the sudden chill from the water hitting my chest and as if sensitive to that, the water stopped pouring out of my palms. My eyes shot open again, looking right at my palms; I didn't mean to ruin a good thing!

"Hey wait wait, don't just dry up me, I didn't mean to offend you! I need water! Please." I yelled, thinking back to the glorious sight of the water from before, and as if responding to me, the water poured out again, as if it never stopped.

My eyes were even wider now, staring at the water I didn't think would return.

"This is too weird," I took a pause to look away from my palms and to the sky and make an amendment to my thought, "I mean well, maybe not the weirdest thing that has happened today, but still worth noting."

I had to make sure I wasn't lying about circumstances. At this point I had become like the superstitious grandma who thought every little thing would incur the Gods' wrath, but after what I had experienced, it was fair to think that my fears were significantly more well founded.

I sat back up, utterly confused, with my palms in front of me. I imagined the image of my palms without water coming out of them, and just like that, they stopped. I imagined the image of my palms with water pouring out of them and again, they started.

"This. Is. Amazing.... I really am dead. Because how else is this possible?"

Trying to think about how such a thing could happen, or how it worked filled me with curiosity, excitement and most importantly, hope. I wasn't as helpless as I thought, but this sudden boon may yet have a dark passenger accompanying it. A thought that occurred to me earlier once again, flowed into mind; I needed water to live. Why was I being given water? Wouldn't that imply that there was indeed a death condition? I shook my head, and stood up, clenching the feelings that bubbled up in my heart earlier and with those feelings, I powered the next words I uttered.

"It doesn't matter, if I can die still or not, it's not like I'm going to just let myself die to see if it's possible! I got something so I'm going to use it. The weird sky as my witness, I'm going to live!"

My fist launched up against the sky in tandem with the last word in my speech, and for extra measure, I made sure to have water pour out of my clenched fist again just to make sure it was still working.

This was my declaration, and my promise to myself that I was going to survive and not just let myself die. This was something I felt I needed to say out loud lest I go down the rabbit hole of trying to discern what death means for me now. I'm going to live; I was going to make that my motto.