Beautiful Tomorrow's Beautiful Work!

this is beautiful tomorrow's work, i take no credit at all for this masterpiece!

I wake in a field of violently red poppies, the slight scent of frangipani in the air I inhale. Where I am, I am unaware. I remember falling… then this. I glance up at the sky, hoping the open landscape will clear my clouded mind. I recoil slightly and close my eyes in shock, the sun; it was the lightest purple I had ever seen.
“Do you need help?” a calming voice whispers in my ear. I open my eyes and look around, but all I can see is a small bird flittering on the ground beside me. Again I hear that comforting voice.
“Look down”. I am able to understand birds, but strangely I am not frightened; it just feels like it’s supposed to be.

I decide to go exploring; I mean, I’m dead, what else do I have to do for eternity? As I pass out of the fence that encloses the brightly coloured flowers, the scenery suddenly changes. I am now faced with a husky morning sunrise, mist rising to cover the distant shape of an unknown island; this picturesque view reminds me of an island close to my home on Earth. I notice another fence line; another portion of my heaven I have not yet explored. I am unsure of how many different variations of my memories there are in this heaven.
I notice a windy, open road branching off into another direction; my mind tells me that I should follow it. I amble along the rocky road, slipping on loose gravel every now and then. I am so completely focused on my journey that I fail to notice the majestic house that is at the end of the road.
When it enters my vision it tweaks a small tug on my heart; its amber coloured wood and three separate levels are parallel with the house I grew up in on Earth. I race up the stairs; I wonder, has it all changed? I recoil in shock once I reach the landing; the floor gives the impression of being the sky. I tentatively begin to walk across it, afraid that at anytime I would fall.

My room, or, at least, what was once my room, has walls filled with paintings. Millions of different images jump off the walls; they have become the universe’s canvas. Some of the images I remember seeing when I was alive, in art galleries; others just seem to have been created from memorable moments that I had experienced on Earth. After a quick tour around the house I am startled to realise that all of the rooms seem to detail different memories from my life: all of the rooms, excluding the room covered in paintings.
The extreme joy and pain that reconnection with this house brings causes me to become breathless. I need air; I close my eyes and try to breath. I open them again and… and I’m flying, not like as in ‘superhero’ kind of flying; but as in, I have wings, beautiful coppery red and earth-like brown wings. In my heaven it seems all of your dreams can come true; whether they follow the rules of reality or not.
After a small time of allowing my imagination to make the rules, I allow myself to return to the house.
As I walk out onto the veranda I experience a shock overload; the hunger I had been battling was about to be sated: the tables are covered with every food I could possibly imagine. But, as always, there was a catch to my paradise, or so the young man sitting beside all the food told me. Apparently I could enjoy the imaginative state of mind that I had now, but only for a time; when I was ready, or within twenty years, I had to report to an office to be flown back to earth. My memory would be wiped, and I would be the soul that is flown into the child (or animal) the moment it is created.
I was thankful that I would not be in this imagined paradise for all of eternity; I mean, who wants perfection forever?