Whenever we are faced with mortality, we are faced with the most primal question in the realm of our curiosity. What happens next? The imagination reels at such a question, and grasping for meaning in a seemingly short life span we can give our imagination great power. Ghosts and devils, spirits and angels dance about in our fear of death. Our lives can be determined by our reverence for death, or our fear of it. I have often remarked that I do not fear death. This is more or less true. I do not fear the loss of my life, but I have such great fears about what happens next. I have searched for the answer in ghost stories and I have found some profound answers, but nothing that can assuage my fear. There are things beyond our scope, I know this to be true. Beyond our comprehension and beyond our fragile definition of reality. And it is in that unbearable, unimaginable expanse of forever that I find myself wrestling with my personal demons. I understand why people would turn to religion, I understand why people would turn to science, I especially understand why people would turn to believing in nothing at all, but I cannot do any of these things. I am caught in a revolving door between life, death, and forever. I dare not stop for fear of learning an indisputable truth. I will cling to the questions for I am afraid of the answers.