I must be dead; I have to be. I’ve never felt like this before. Pitch-black, nothing moving except strange shapes behind my eyelids.
Bad hiccups: I never had hiccups when I was alive. What caused them? I see a spot of light, far away, out of reach. I try for it anyway, but it hurts too much. I can’t move, surely you’re allowed to move in the afterlife?
The chink of light is brighter now. Wider. I find to my relief I can move my aching body.
My alarm clock goes off. I'm not dead, after all.