Memoirs of a Dead Guy

by Kent Hopkins

Overview

Kent has just had a dawning realization. As he slowly turns to face his bed, he wants to hear his daughter laugh one more time, tend to his vegetable garden, and pet his cat. As his reverie is interrupted by a dim glow, an apparition appears before him. As his guide reaches out for his hand, Kent wonders who will water his veggies. It is his time to die.

It is not long before Kent discovers that equal opportunity exists in the realms beyond our Earth. As his guide forces him to endure an excruciating scrutiny of his soul and motives in life, Kent is able to see the good he performed, the help he tendered, the evil he fell victim to, and the inspiration he provided. Now on a journey curing which he must coexist with strange souls, feel a wide range of emotions, and reconcile his life on Earth, Kent learns that he cannot move forward on his destined path until he finds the part of his spirit that is missing.

Memoirs of a Dead Guy delves into realms of truth and wisdom as a rebellious soul attempts to discover the purpose of life and the ramifications of his past deeds.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475942491
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	08/13/2012
Pages:	240
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.69(d)

Read an Excerpt

Memoirs of a Dead Guy

---

By Kent Hopkins

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Kent Hopkins
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-4248-4

---

Chapter One

The Departure

I'm totally confused, but I'm okay. I want to remember all of it, but I don't know how. I don't know anything anymore. I want to share this with my friends, those who were left behind. Maybe I can write it down, send it somehow!

I don't know if it'll get to you. I'm really trying to see that it does. I'm not sure what the postage is, or, for that matter, where to even go to find out! But I will try ... It's kind of hard to explain, but I'll give it my best shot. The only suggestion I can give is to look beyond your intellect, even further beyond your ego, and examine the deep recesses of your soul, the spark within. Explore the unknown corridors of your mind.

Previous paradigms don't mean shit here, so leave them behind. You start the same as everybody else. The ultimate equal opportunity exists here. Many won't like it, especially those who believe they are somehow more educated, richer, or wiser than their fellows. Seems funny, actually. They liked it well enough on Earth, as long as it was somebody else being equal.

A lot of folks got really butt hurt when they discovered they couldn't blame their failures, actions, or beliefs on one of the isms that exist on Earth. We are all the same and are judged the same, no excuses. It hurt—a lot. I was lucky; it hurt many others a lot more.

This place is synesthesia on steroids. It's like being able to see music, smell color, taste sound, and hear emotions. No, yelling with your voice isn't what I meant; I mean in your head.

The main difference between before and now is being able to remember where you were and maybe having a good idea of where you're going. And nobody makes you, you write your own ticket. Signatures on a dotted line can prove to be damned inconvenient, something about bearing false witness against yourself. More on that later. I'm getting ahead of myself. There's so much to share, to get used to. It's confusing me.

Oh, one other thing, don't try to bullshit anybody. I tried, and it won't work. It seems some things die harder than I do ...

There is a memory of when we've been here before. I found that out upon my arrival, or, rather, return. It felt like déjà vu, you know what I mean? I even know some of the folks here. I heard of many others, and now I have the opportunity to see those I have felt, but not until I render an account of myself.

There is a message here, one I wish to share. Things aren't what they seem. We've been blinded by the fearful side of us, seeking nothing less than absolute domination and control of our environment and each other. It was written that those who intend to lead end up at the back of the bus and those who would control end up seeking to explain themselves to a far greater power.

I'll keep my yap shut. I couldn't even run my own life worth a damn. When I was alone, I had no adult supervision, that sort of thing. I had to find God to simply survive. Now I'm grateful for it.

As for these so-called benevolent despots inhabiting the earth, good luck, guys, you'll need it. And get ready to learn the true meaning of embarrassment. You'll find that out when you face your neurosis.

As for me? I know better. I couldn't even run my own life worth a shit. That's one painful lesson I will be spared. I never did care for mortification or chagrin. It's like getting your ass handed to you in a fight. I'm going to talk a lot about that later as it is explained to me, so please be patient. So much is happening. It is a whole new world up here—a world that is more real than the one I left.

Now here's a word for you God haters masquerading as atheists and the self-styled tolerant. You will be forced to endure an excruciating scrutiny of your soul and motives. You can't hide. I've got news for you: it won't work. The best you can do is self-destruction. If chosen, pride is indeed the downfall of humanity. Then you'll be keeping me company in my neck of the woods. At least I hope you will. There are other possibilities and destinations. You'll find that out too.

And no, you can't wait till you get here, and you will get here. You buy your ticket long before you embark. For those of you who diffidently proclaim, "I'm not worried about it," you will be.

I know this is confusing. How do you think I feel? It's hard to relate when there is little common ground and even fewer references—a truly ineffable experience. Everything happened so fast—some good stuff and some really rotten stuff too.

And it's not what you think. At least it wasn't what I thought. I had a few things right—not enough, but a few.

Maybe I should start at the beginning ...

Like when I died.

Chapter Two

Dying to Discover

So that's what it feels like, croaking, I mean. I can't say it bothered me a great deal by the time the old body cashed out, the consummate lifetime warranty.

Cancer is no easy road: going nuts with pain, feeling trapped, not knowing if you are here or there. Is it the meds, or are you losing your mind? It sucked. People were sad, I was uncomfortable and curious, and most of all ... the waiting. It would give a vulture an ulcer.

Sit back and look at your whole life. I mean, what would I have done differently? Did I waste it? This book isn't long enough, so I'll skip that part.

It was enough of an ordeal listening to some self-styled, pompous asshole telling me what I needed to do to get to heaven. Stinking control freak fear mongers piss me off.

I later found out there's a place for them too.

Anyway, I told this hallelujah peddler who came to see me, "I am doing what I need to do to get into heaven, like dying, one cell at a time." He kept trying to lay some guilt trip on me, fear-based stuff. I remember one of these mean old bastards scaring the shit out of some old gal who was on her deathbed. I wanted to kick his ass. Now wouldn't that make for a good confession? Finally, weary of the diatribe, I expressed my desires.

"Get the fuck out of my room! And take your God with you!"

It was admittedly not very eloquent, but it worked.

These people made my ass ache, and I already had enough aches.

And besides, I knew better, especially now. You see, you don't have to see anybody you don't want to here, which is nice. There are a few notable exceptions to every rule, but fortunately I'm not one of them.

I thought about all the people in my life, those who gave a shit. Many said they did, and I believe them. They just couldn't handle being around a soon to be dead guy. I mean, what the hell was the problem? The only real difference is timing.

That's cool. I don't hold it against them. Sometimes I feel bad about it, making people uncomfortable, but it can't be helped.

If I had a choice ... well, I'll let that one be.

But now my world was very small—the bedroom, the bathroom, on a good day going outside to look at the yard, maybe watching the birds. I think back to my childhood when the planet was ripe for exploration and discovery. Now it was gone. A major effort of will was required to simply maintain my composure. Life now was no fun. I tried to absorb the somber lesson, knowing I was never going to get better.

In an odd sense, I anticipated moving on.

I felt really lousy about those who really cared; they would miss me. You know, creditors, politicians, merchants, that sort of thing. Hell, I was going to miss me. What were they crying about?

The ones who hurt the most were those who couldn't accept what was transpiring. I explained it as just having a date set; we're all heading that way. I was just going to beat them across the finish line was all. And to be quite honest, I felt ready to leave. It wasn't so much that I was tired of living; I wasn't. I was just sick of dying.

Then there was my family and closest friends. I could feel them hurting, and I tried to make them feel better. Seemed people would miss me farting, belching, puking and spitting all the time. Never figured that; usually I got yelled at. There was nothing quite like having your chemo come calling in the middle of a holiday dinner. The stuff was so good I had to taste it twice.

You find your mark on life later, big time, all of it, good and bad.

Paying off old debts is a good start. I told one guy I'd write him a check, not that it would be honored but what the hell could they do about it? Dig my ass up? I was getting cremated anyway. I'd probably end up in an ashtray or litter box ...

I've been repossessed. Anyway, as time wore on, things started to change. I don't mean just having no energy and hurting all the time; I mean inside. Instead of being afraid, part of me was looking forward to it—the new experience, the going home.

Without a sick, worn-out old stiff to deal with.

It just bugged me wondering if I made good use of my life. Now I knew how some of my friends felt. Most of them were here already. They beat me across the finish line.

I think I was finding my soul. I'd better find it; it's all I was going to have pretty soon.

Damn, this shit hurt too. God. I fight pain; I always have. I get nasty and irascible. I try not to take it out on other folks. It's not their fault.

But now I really knew it was coming, I could feel it. Something inside me had shifted, I didn't know what, but I wasn't mad or nuts anymore.

I just hurt. And I was tired, both inside and out.

When I crashed, I wondered if I would wake up. Sometimes I hoped I wouldn't. I didn't get around much. It irritated me and left me with a sad feeling of how things used to be. You want some calisthenics? Try heaving your guts out on your hands and knees, bile dripping off your face as your guts convulse from the chemo.

It blew my mind listening to the holy rollers, dieticians, and doctors not wanting me to eat fatty foods, smoke, or get addicted to painkillers. I had no patience with that shit at all. I'm going home, to hell with this!

"Say what, Doc? In case you didn't notice, unless you can declare me incompetent, I am leaving, and my family will sue your ass off if you run a power play on me. They know how I feel. I don't need your help to die. I can manage quite nicely alone!"

That's why I left and went home. Screw them. This was bullshit.

They seemed to be having more trouble with this than I was, which seemed weird. But then again, bitching at a dead guy isn't very productive. They tend to ignore you a lot.

Well, now on to how I crossed over ...

Swinging my feet off the mattress, standing, surprised at what I saw. Someone was sleeping in my bed.

"What the hell! Hey, turkey, get out of here!"

A voice next to me said, "He cannot hear you, or to be more precise, you cannot hear you."

"What? Who are you ... and what is going on?"

"Have you noticed anything, two things, actually?"

I wasn't standing on the floor; I was above it. I freaked, thought I was going to fall. Nothing happened. Moving, or rather attempting to move, I couldn't tell where my body was. I had no sense of kinesthesia whatsoever. Reaching up, my newfound acquaintance dragged me, flailing, to the floor.

"Imagine where you wish to be," he told me.

"Humph, try thirty years ago." But I noted some changes.

I had no pain, no arthritic joints, and clear vision. My balance was fine, and even my 'roids stopped singing. Then suddenly I realized I had all my teeth. I hadn't felt like this in ... how long?

Startled, I said, "I can't be cured."

"You are not."

"Then, oh God," I said, a deep sadness filling me, "it's over, isn't it? Am I ...?"

"You are. Welcome Home," he continued, calling me something I couldn't begin to pronounce. "Soon you will see others who have been waiting for you."

"They mad at me?"

"No."

"Do I owe them any money?"

"No."

"Hey, wait a minute. I'm raw. Got no clothes on! Got no money either!"

Turning to look at myself for the first time, I noticed I did have clothes on, but they looked different. I was me, all right, but something had changed. Looking at my hands and forearms, I noted a young skin tone and muscles I hadn't seen in years. Brushing my hand over my forehead, I said, "Wow, hair. Damn, it's been a while." I even had shoes on too.

I thought stiffs didn't get shoes.

One doesn't forsake the habits of a lifetime easily.

It's funny the first things you think about. I pondered the enormity of what my life had been, the people I had known and loved, and the things I had seen. I felt a great sadness, almost overwhelming. I would miss these souls and the place I called home too. They were friendly, routine, secure, and familiar.

I was grateful for the life insurance, and then I thought of the shock to my family and friends. And I was pissed I hadn't gotten my tax return back yet, I still had an oil change to get done, and who would give water to the cats? By now I was feeling a bit paranoid.

"Shit, I got no smokes."

Looking down at the corporeal shell that had housed me, I felt sad and grateful. I had been given a strong, resilient, sound body. It had served me well. God knows I abused it, all the booze I poured in my face, smokes, drugs, and the crap I used to eat. I worked the hell out of it too, and it never failed me. I felt as if I was abandoning it. A silent thank you was the best I could muster.

"Come with me," a voice beckoned. I realized I couldn't identify where the voice was coming from, sort of like a voice in a crowd. I saw a figure with a hand beckoning. The life force is strong. I didn't want to leave. I couldn't believe this was it, all there was or would ever be.

But slowly I took his hand. Yes, the dead say good-bye.

I was drawn into a blackness. More than seeing it, I felt it rush by. It was warm and kind of musical. It is really hard to describe, but not unpleasant.

"Am I going up or down?" I asked. It did seem relevant at this point.

The sense of movement continued. I began to ponder where I was going and what would happen to me. I felt some fear as I pondered the coming events.

"Don't project, dude. It's not good for you," I said, talking to myself, keeping my emotions in check. "What will they ask me, or will they just kick my ass? Let's think here," I said, running a list of potential queries through my mind. What was the first thing I did in my life? Screamed and hollered a lot. I mean c'mon, the first thing they did was beat my ass. Hell of a greeting. And the last thing ...? I shit in my bed.

"Well," I said, musing to myself, "at least I still have my demented sense of humor. I think I'll stick with the in-between stuff. When is this subway going to end, and where is it going to end?"

Suddenly I sensed presences, like the feeling you're being watched and worse still, dispassionately appraised. I didn't like this at all.

Faces appeared before me, ugly, hideous faces. Images from nightmarish nocturnal memories were reaching, grasping for me. Claws resembling hands clutched at me. I started struggling, yelling, "You bastards bugged me all my life. Fuck you!"

Striking out at them, I fell into fear-based anger and rage. "You want a piece of me, assholes? Come and get it! Can't this damn subway go any faster?"

Then I thought of God. I did that a lot when I was wearing the meat. Even now with no meat I do it a lot. The powerful, quiet voice I remember so well from my incarnation spoke to me and even said the exact same words.

"Stay on the path. They cannot harm you."

"What path? I can't see a God-damned thing!"

Suddenly everything got real quiet. It felt like I was slowing down, and a dim light appeared ahead, growing closer, brighter.

"Guess my stop's coming up." Looking back, I saw no signs of pursuit.

The end of a beginning or the beginning of an end; it troubled me a tad not to know which ...

But all things considered, I felt pretty good. I didn't hurt, and I wasn't scared any more. It could be a whole lot worse.

And besides, I could feel the strong grip of my companion dragging me forward.

Chapter Three

Upon Arrival

Now I was getting scared. I figured I would end up like the billions gone before me. Problem was, there was nobody around.

"Just a question, friend, like, where is everybody? For that matter, where are we? And who or what are you?"

I just don't know what it was to describe what I felt, but something was different. It's hard to explain, but I felt a vague sense of familiarity ... subliminal mental rumblings. I hear folks talk about being someplace before, but I couldn't have been here before. Or could I have? Or maybe I just forgot.

Then I remembered the veil. It was lifting now, a rising, shimmering iridescence vanishing before me. "Good Lord, I have been here before!" Appearing before me was an exit, like the end of a tunnel. That's where the light was, illuminating the exit. I released my benefactor's hand, stepping through. Then I stood quietly, the uncertainties rising within me.

"Yes, you have. Actually, you have spent far more time here than you did on Earth, far more."

Whirling, I sought the source of that thought. And there he stood. I didn't recognize him, but I felt too embarrassed to mention it. He was a lot younger than me, about forty, my size, and dressed in casual slacks and shirt. But his hair! He had white hair, in a young dude yet! As I looked at his face, again I was captured by his eyes. Deep blue, they glowed with a hidden energy, seemingly ageless, yet wise beyond comprehension.

"I know you from somewhere. I can feel it, but I can't remember it."

"Yes, you know me, you know me very well. You have spoken to me many times, as I have to you. I just listen with greater application," he said, smiling at me.

"You know, I hate to sound rude or anything, but this really wasn't what I had in mind or expected."

Uproarious laughter was his response. That was a good sign.

I expected wings and stuff. I was praying he didn't have a pitchfork. How do I explain this? He was, well ... beautiful. Sensing a power and wisdom beyond my own, I did not wish to alienate this creature; no indeed. I felt waves of love emanating around me, yet I also sensed an awesome power held in abeyance, the true iron fist in a velvet glove.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Memoirs of a Dead Guy by Kent Hopkins Copyright © 2012 by Kent Hopkins. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---

Table of Contents

Contents

Prologue....................1
The Departure....................6
Dying to Discover....................9
Upon Arrival....................17
To Loose the Ties....................29
More Lessons....................35
So Much to Learn....................52
To Follow the Son....................61
The Hall of Records....................69
I'm Grateful, Very Grateful....................74
Zealotry, the Shadow of Fear....................89
The Evil One....................102
Why the Fuss?....................110
Pride Goeth Before....................118
The Voice Within....................128
Baggage....................136
Divine and conquer....................149
Functions of a Limit....................160
I Mentioned Synesthesia....................169
A Taste of Isolation....................174
A Chosen Few....................181
Tutelage....................188
Front and Center....................219
A New Beginning....................227