The fear heightened my sense of meaning. It lied concurrent with something that could be shittily described as certain uncertainty. The afterlife was a limited space that I could not exit. The walls were basically file cabinet archives of past memories that I could access and re-experience. It was as if a fully grown adult was in a self built baby-crib prison created with legos of his own history. I did not want to be dead, with no ability to create new experiences, so I got scared.
I slammed my elbow into the wall next to me in an attempt to ground myself in reality. I turned the handle of the faucet and put a hastily grabbed ceramic coffee mug under it. I drank water scared and watched the sun rise. I spotted some joggers, which combined with the awareness/positive feelings I associated with sunlight and the absence of darkness, I took as an indicator that it was appropriate to sleep with no watchman.

Calls for another try at it.

Dead . . . . . or stuck inside your own head?

Welcome to the Nexus.

That experience is both terrifying and very enlightening. I was in that place once. Don't understand if the entity that brought me there was evil or benevolent. It did, however, make me value my existence and those with me on this plane so much more deeply. Learn from it my friend.