welcome to the ghost world

i've always felt a really odd connection to ghosts, and the concept of roaming a plane you've left a long time ago. i seem to have vivid memories of being a ghost, hovering over the place where i had died. it sounds super morbid and creepy, but i have no idea how else to describe the feeling.

the scene kinda goes like this: there is a house in a forest with the door slightly ajar. the trees are all bare and the sky is overcast. the house itself looks dilapitated, almost ressembling a forgotten log cabin. due to weathering and time, it has begun to slant, ever so slightly to the left. the porch has suffered the same level of neglect as the rest of the house, now sunken and warped. two windows sit upon the face of the house, each with four simple, and perfectly square panels. even though the door remains open, it isn't very cold here. it looks as though the forest is already deep into fall, and yet i can still feel a certain warmth and stillness in the air. inside, my body is lying in the hallway of the main entrance. from the outside, discarded cans and assorted pieces of detritus are strewn down the length of the hallway. my ghost hovers in the doorway like a thought.