Bikie Heaven

I wanted to see more places where people go after death, preferably the extreme and peripheral places. I decided to go to a plane where violent criminals go such as outlaw motor cycle gangsters.

The escort assisted me in finding such a plane, stopping us just above it, then left me on my own.

I descended into the plane below me. It was dark, as if it was night. No colour. I saw city buildings and streets, and a river running through the city. The buildings were derelict. I saw no motor vehicles. There were no street lights or lights in windows. What little light there was came from the corners and edges of things, as if the energy existent within different surfaces combined enough where the surfaces met to light the edges. The atmosphere was one of unrestrained and irrational violence. I saw that the river absorbed much of the atmosphere and transported it away, like rivers do on the physical plane.

I stood near the river at an intersection of major streets, observing the scenes and the atmosphere. Violence was all about the city. There was a commotion a hundred yards away. I saw a man fleeing towards me, pursued by a gang of about twenty men. They caught him at the intersection. They jumped on him until he was a broken dead mess, then they ran away in another direction in pursuit of someone else. The dead man lay mangled on the road for several moments, then he got up and looked at himself and looked around, seeming momentarily surprised by his recovery, then he ran away. I think I was even more impressed by his recovery than he was.

I sensed that this was the general pattern of the place and that individuals remained here until one by one they exhausted their interest in it.

I focused on the location of my physical body and took off home to write it down.

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