The day started okay, I guess. I got out of my bed and everything was just fine. Or so I thought. I was tired, but I'm always tired, so that's not really something especially horrible, but today it was like my whole body was heavier than usually. Every single one of my limps felt like they were made of cement. My eyelids had a hard time staying open and my arms couldn't even lift my own weight of the bed.
   After a while of lying completely still I used every muscle in my body and swung my legs over the side of the bed and lifted myself up so I was now sitting straight up.
   At first my legs couldn't hold my weight and I kept falling down on the bed when I tried to stand up, but after a while I pulled myself together and got up. I stood still trying to get the strength to move my legs. I walked out of my bedroom holding on to everything I could. I even knocked down a chair putting my weight on it as I passed.
   When I stepped into my kitchen, it was totally messed up. I looked around, everything was broken. Even the chairs and the table were torn into small pieces. I look around, I didn't really know why, but I just kept looking. Just kept starring around the busted-up room trying to figure out what had happened. I stood there, completely still, in my ruined kitchen, which I had put so many hours into earlier that year when I restored it. I couldn't believe it, how could something like that had happened without waking me up? Could there be a connection between that and the fact that I almost couldn't stand? Maybe I had been drugged last night or something. As this thought entered my mind I realised that I couldn't remember anything about what I had done yesterday it was all a big blur. I tried to think harder but it didn't get any clearer. I stood frozen to the spot, unable to get my mind around what was happening.
   It was as if I couldn't move, suddenly my limps felt like stone again and I had a hard time standing up. My head started spinning and I fell down on the floor. The blow didn't knock me out as I had expected and suddenly I felt okay again. I pushed myself up, using only my legs and I felt remarkably better. Whatever had been wrong before was gone. I tried taken a step without any support and it was as if that whole morning had been in my head or something. I had no pain anywhere and my body obeyed my every thought as it would normally do.
   Suddenly I panicked, I had to get some help with my kitchen and gods knows what else had happened to me during the night. I gave my legs one last test and decided that I was strong enough to run. As soon as I could, I ran to the phone in my living room to call somebody, anybody really. But as I heard a voice on the other end and started talking everybody I called just began to say something along the lines of "hello, hello? Is anybody there?" I didn't understand I tried talking louder but it didn't help at all. I called everyone from my grandmother to the police but no one seemed to hear me. Now I got really freaked out and felt myself starting to loose control. I sat down in the position I had learned at a crash course in self control I had attended last year after getting into a fight with one of my co-workers, which had of course been totally none called for since she was the one who has hit me first. I started to relax and got my breathing down to normal. I decided to go out in the street to find another phone I could call from.
   I went out of my apartment and out into the stairway and ran down the stairs so fast that I stumbled and fell down on my knees. After jumping up on my feet I ran out in the street. At first I just walked around looking around. Everything seemed different somehow, I couldn't quite but my finger on what had changed but I had the distinct feeling that something was different.
   After a while, I tried talking to people but they just walked by me like I wasn't even there. I even ran into the centre of the street and screamed my lungs out, but no one even as much as looked up. In the end I got really frustrated and tried to hit a man, just to get a reaction but my arm just went right through him like I was hitting thin air.
   I got really scared, actually I totally panicked. I started at my hands for a long time. Nothing was wrong. They sure looked the same, but felt very different. I looked around to decide which way I should go.
   I ran to a church, just out of old habit. I used to go to church with my mom every Sunday, but after she died I never went there anymore. Not even to visit her grave, I guess I never really had a reason to. I was never a big believer in the afterlife. But now I ran into the church, got down on my knees and prayed for god to help me. I asked him to explain to me what had happened and what was wrong with me. But after a while I decided to go ask my mother instead. I mean god? I don't even believe in him why would he help me?
   After some searching I finally found my mother's grave out in the cemetery. My farther had picked the church because me mother loved it and the feel of the cemetery, where graves grew more naturally than normally.
   The grave was really old and looked more like a jungle than a grave. My mother would have loved the way the nature had taken over, but to me it just looked old and neglected. This would be true because my farther had stopped maintaining the grave a couple of years ago because nobody besides him went there.
   I asked my mother for some answers, not really answers to what was happening to me or why this was happening to me. I asked her more silly questions. I didn't really know why, like I explained I'm not a big believer in the afterlife and all that stuff, but I had nowhere else to go. I figured if anybody could help me it would be her, she sure had more reason to than some god.
   Then suddenly I noticed a grave right beside my mother's, I crawled over to it and read the gravestone. I screamed. I took a stone from the ground and broke it in two, just out of anger and with no particular reason. I was sure my fingers would be bleeding but when I looked down my hands looked untouched, the skin was whole and there were no cuts or small scratches anywhere. I looked up in horror. This time the writing on the other gravestone sucked in. I read it at least twenty times. It was as if my head refused to believe it. After what seemed like a long time or starring out into the air I looked down on the ground I was laying on. My hands felt the dirt and I took it up and studied it for a while.
   I stated digging through the dirt. The first couple of layers was no problem, but the soil underneath was hard and I wasn't easy to keep going. I reached something hard and knew at once I was close to the coffin. When I finally reached the coffin, I ripped it open. As I saw my own body, everything went black and that's the last I remember of my living life.