Possibility When We're Six Feet Under

My Mom and her boyfriend recently started a neighborhood play production company. The following is one of the monologues that one of the main actors read to get the part. I'm not sure if I would want this to be true or not. Either way it's intriguing.

Here Lies Henry

Henry

And so, say you die
... and I know that's a scary thing but only because you don't know what happens, so I'm going to tell you.

When you die you float up to the ceiling and then you hit the ceiling and when you hit the ceiling you open your eyes and you find yourself in a white room in a kind of uncomfortable chair. And every time you close your eyes your life plays itself out from the beginning, in real time. And so you decide to close your eyes and watch. And then when your life is over a woman comes into the room, she's your maternal grandmother when she was eighteen years old and you don't really recognize her because you didn't know her then. And she takes you by the arm and leads you out of the room, through a wheat field, across a beach and over what looks like it might be the surface of the moon, to a room that is filled with photographs of every person whose eyes ever met yours. And she tells you a little bit about each of them. And then you feel tired so she leads you to an attic that is filled with mattresses from every bed you have ever slept in, and in the centre of the room is the mattress from the bed in which you were conceived, and she tells you to lie down there, and you do, and you fall into a deep and restful sleep. And then you are woken up by the person you always felt you should have spent your life with but didn't. And then you get to spend a month together. And he drives you through every storm you ever slept through to a room with a table in it and three chairs. And he leaves you there standing before the table and three people enter the room: the first preson you kissed, the first person you cursed, and the first person you saw dead. And they explain many many things to you, that you don't understand. And then they let you go through your best friend's closet and wear all your favourite stuff. And then they tell you you must enter a room filled with people and you must tell these people something they don't already know.

And before you can ask why
you find yourself in a room full of people.
People you know,
people you don't know,
people you love,
people you wished loved you,
strangers...
mostly strangers...
and you try to tell these people something they don't already know.

And then you realize that that is quite impossible. Because how can i tell you what you don't know when I don't even know what I know.

Well, I guess I know a few things.

By Daniel MacIvor and Daniel Brooks