Sister Souljah - Life After Death

When the action stopped, I floated down softly and landed in what felt like grass. I wasn’t certain, though. I couldn’t see nothing. Then, blat dow! Bright blinding sunlight! I threw my hands over my eyes and took only short peeks until they adjusted to the shocking shine. While my eyes were still covered, I could smell a certain unrecognizable scent. I eased open my fingers. I was standing in a field of flowers, all of them green-stemmed, tall, and yellow-faced. Hold up now, I’m a city bitch . So I’m like, What the fuck? Where am I and why am I here? I dropped my hands. I could see everything clearly. There were blue-headed, red iridescent-feathered birds with long curved beaks soaring above me. There were also uniquely orange-colored birds with straight long beaks and a crown of feathers on the top of their heads. They were flying around the field. Some landing in the trees—trees that looked like a memory that I didn’t want to remember right now. It was from my eighteen-years-young trip to the Florida Keys. Yes! Palm trees, but these had sacks of strange fruit hanging from them that were not Florida coconuts. There were exotic butterflies fluttering up way too close to me. Some were several shades of orange only. Some of them were polka-dotted and multicolored and in all types of unexplainable shapes. I started laughing. I’m used to pigeons and moths and mosquitoes and cement and sidewalks and gravel!

In the far distance there was a tall, wide, and long white wall that somehow glistened as though it had been covered with diamond dust, causing the shine from it and the power of the sun to collide and my eyes to squint. I never saw a wall like that. Someone had to be hiding something behind it, I thought. Looked like money to me. So I began walking in that direction. As soon as I did, I stopped short. I got psyched that I have legs and can suddenly fully feel them. In fact, I can walk, see, hear, smell, and even taste the air. Ah shit, air! That means I can breathe. I’m alive!

After I walked for what felt like forever, I realized that fast-forwarding through darkness was a swifter mode of transportation. Walking for me now was somehow played out, a thing of the past, a tiring non-necessity. Finally reaching the white wall that had sparkled from afar, I could see the detailing of it. It was about fifty thousand square feet long. It was solid as though made from huge shiny white rocks. And every ten feet there was a parallel indentation perfectly carved into the wall. I walked to one of them and turned and stepped inside of the indentation. It was as though someone had carved out a space for a six- or seven-foot person to just stand outside but inside the wall. Crazy! I’m thinking, Why would a man be standing inside of a solid rock wall? I stepped out from it and counted twenty-one indentations before I couldn’t count any further because that was how long the wall ran. Then I thought, Maybe armed guards stay tucked in there. This wall must be protecting a mansion and each security guy stood in each indentation. But what type of hustler needed fifty security dudes outside of his crib? Maybe they were not even regular security, I suddenly thought. Maybe they were spaces for soldiers who carried M-16s. Yo! Maybe this was Pablo Escobar’s joint or Tony Montana or El Chapo or… I laughed, excited as I now walked alongside the wall looking for the entrance.

Sterling silver, that’s what the incredibly sturdy, solid, wide door that was embedded inside of the white wall was made of. I stepped back to fully check it out. I looked up. On top of the wall sat white doves. They stared at me but didn’t fly off all nervously like how birds tend to do when even being looked at by human beings. I took a good look at them and walked towards that badass door. I was glad that I don’t have that bird fear that one of the chicks on lockup had. She would have been terrified if she was here.

When I reached for the heavy metal knocker, my arm went right through the door as though it was not solid sterling silver, even though I am one hundred that it is. My body followed. Once inside I was still outside, meaning I looked up and I could still see the sky, not a ceiling or a roof. I was standing in what seemed to be the front yard. Beneath the beautiful trees were seven sterling silver outdoor chair-and-table sets with designer cushions, and two sterling silver benches. Beyond the trees at the center of the yard was a huge multiple-level fountain that seemed to be made of the same rock that the wall surrounding the house was made of. In addition to it sparkling, it was gushing water that looked clean enough to drink or bathe in. I walked towards it. I inhaled to see if it smelled any particular way. Clean water, I thought, should not have any smell whatsoever. I leaned in and stuck my hand in the flow. But when I drew my hand back there was no water or trace of wetness in my palm. I thought about it. I’m not even thirsty or hungry. I had not seen food since prison breakfast this morning, which I didn’t eat ’cause it was my release day and I was gonna be eating way better food from then on.

But hold up. That could not have been this morning. I was released into a winter storm in the winter season. Where I am standing right now it is obviously summer, not even spring. It has to be August, the hottest month. I can feel the hot breeze and everything is fully blossomed. I grabbed myself. What am I wearing? It better not be the white three-quarter hooded mink coat and the thigh high boots. It isn’t. I am wearing the, I’m rich bitch Chanel, winter-white brocade, tapered, sleeveless mini with the pleats that gently hug my hips. Of course I am. I had ordered the mini to rock beneath the mean mink and to highlight the red python boots. Wait a minute… the red boots are gone. Now I’m not wearing no shoes. No shoes! Un uh… I walked around to the backside of the fountain. About seventy-two feet away was another door, which looked like it was made of pure platinum. Super wealthy, I get it. Dripping with dough! Caked up! Nothing but cheddar, gwop to the ceiling, raining paper! Overwhelmed, I didn’t bother knocking, just breezed through, which I now know I can do. I’m thinking. If I look around, I can find a pair of shoes and make them fit. I’m not worried about them being cheap or worn shoes. Evidently I am in a wealthy place. No wealthy bitch would have a cheap shoe collection. Furthermore, every wealthy bitch would and should own tens if not hundreds of shoes that have never been worn yet. I’m not gonna be caught dead and barefoot in someone else’s mansion. I started laughing but then stopped real quick, remembering how my laughter just might start doubling, tripling, and mutating.

This is not a mansion. It’s a… palace. Has to be. It has the highest ceiling that isn’t a ceiling. It’s a dome. The design of the dome is so dope I want to fuck the architect just to congratulate him on doing what I plan to do in my fashion and decorating business. Design some shit that no one else had. That no one else has ever seen. That mostly no one could ever afford, except my clients . My clients, who needed to be filthy to afford my commission .

The sunlight poured through the dome’s platinum-framed glass skylights. It lit up the wide, long space, making for nice shading. Some spaces had natural spotlights from the sun. Other spaces had shade. Why weren’t there separate rooms, separated by walls, though? Why wasn’t there any furniture? Instead there were intricately woven carpets. Must have taken four hundred weavers to inlay the designs. It was open space, no bedrooms or kitchen. But there were sinks, on both the left and right, front and backsides of the building. It’s a high-end nightclub, no, a ballroom, I thought. Then I canceled the thought right away. People can’t dance freely on carpeted floors. No owner or boss would want liquor spilling on hand-woven rugs. And I didn’t even see no Hermès flats, slippers, or shoes, so I walked right out of the back of the palace.