First thots after waking

What do you want to do now? Reflect on the badness of your existence? OK. What rating do you give it, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst? You give it a seven or eight? That sounds pretty bad; I feel sorry for you. Next time, you should try to avoid getting born. – Whoa, watch out for the fate! – Just now the fate swept you up and placed you back in a womb.

What do you think life will be like this time around? Remember how humans were manipulating the building blocks of their beings, last time you were living? You might have to endure a series of medical injections and procedures after you pass through the matrix. Or maybe they’ll do their meddling prior to birth. On the other hand, you might not be a human at all. You might be a rabbit. Would that be better or worse? An advanced type of alien would be best: then you could invade the planet with the rest of your species and establish a new Paradiso.

And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works. And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. [Revelation 20:13-14]

I always thought that when beings died, their corpse dissolved back into the earth from whence it came while their spirit returned unto God who first breathed it forth. And my other assumption was that the souls of the dead would end up either in the sky (in Heaven) or underground (in Hades); but according to the above quotation, the dead go either into the sea or death or hell. I’d like to know what happens when hell gets cast into the lake of fire. I bet there’s going to be a loud explosion then, and lots of smoke.

P.S.

I’ve gotten to the point where I barely ride my bicycle anywhere anymore, because all the motorized vehicles on the streets are maniacs: their rude impatience has grown life-threatening. I mostly travel on foot, now. 

But even walking has lately become intolerable. Just yesterday, for instance, I was heading north by northwest on a footpath, and a trio of large suburban moms appeared approaching from the opposite direction; all three of them had dogs on leashes, and they were striding side by side, rather than single file, and taking up the entirety of the path. Then, when it came time for us to pass each other, none of them budged an inch to let me thru: I had to step aside into the grass and walk around their whole party; not even the hounds thought fit to share the road. If the grass had been lava or a steep cliff, I might have been injured. Plus, not one of them acknowledged my greeting or returned it, when I smiled and waved and said: “Top of the morning.”