"I've known nothing but struggle and heartbreak... and yet I fought to survive, certain it would all be worth it in the end and my prayers would be rewarded... And now I learn THIS? I discover that, from your point of view, my entire life, from the moment I was born until the day I die... well, died... that every day of it is... er, was... just a bit of idle entertainment?!"
"Well... though that's a terribly dark way to put it... you're not wrong." -- Anon Guest
They say that when you die, you stand in judgement before your creator, and they weigh your heart or intents or... anything really... in the balance. To be found wanting is to be sent to the worst of afterlives. To be found worthy is to be sent to paradise.
I don't know much else beyond... this was not the creator I was expecting. They seem surprised, too. Sitting at some strange altar that displays a multitude of things in a multitude of rectangles, half turned away from whatever strange ritual they were doing with the board of sigils at their hands. Staring at me through odd lenses that distorted their very eyes. Everything about them was odd. Their clothing, their colour, the way they were made... The peculiar knot they had tied themselves into.
We spoke the same words at the same time. "What the flying hell?" We shared the same confusion. The same fear. And yet, this peculiar stranger knew me and I knew them not. I couldn't work it out. Not yet. I still breathed. I could feel my heart in my chest. I could feel the world around me for all that it was not the world I knew.