Thread by @CarliFrueh

🧵#Books #Excerpts #TheMomentAfterDeath

What if the moment after death isn’t an ending—but the beginning of everything you thought you knew unraveling?

In this exclusive excerpt from “The Moment After Death” by Carli Frueh, follow Mayla as she awakens not in oblivion or judgment after death, but suspended in the vivid, breathing reality of the Astral Plane. Guided by Anaya, a 7th-density spiritual companion who has walked beside her since childhood, Mayla discovers that traditional heaven and hell are human constructs. Consciousness doesn’t end. It expands. No final trumpet. No dreamless sleep. Only continuation—raw, aware, and full of wonder.

This isn’t just another near-death story. It’s a radical reimagining of what waits on the other side… and what it means for how we live right now.

Read the full second chapter below and prepare to question everything you were taught about death and dying.
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Chapter Two
The Astral Plane

Mayla hung suspended in a clarity that mocked the chaos below. No tether pulled her down, no gravity reclaimed her. She was air, she was thought, she was the wind—vital, insistent, “wrong.”
“This is sleep,” death. Mayla conveyed to herself. “Soul sleep,” as the verses say. Ecclesiastes, clear as a winter sky: “The dead know nothing. No thoughts, no knowledge, until the trumpet rends the veil.” She'd clung to that in Sunday school, in the shadowed pews where her father's voice boomed salvation's terms—Christ's blood the only key, baptism the seal, judgment the great divide. Heaven's renewal or hell's unquenchable fire. No grey, no lingering. Just rest, profound and dreamless, until eternity's accounting.

Yet there she was, not resting. “Feeling.” The air's mist and the scent of sunflowers, the inexplicable “pull” toward something beyond the ceiling's false heaven of tiles and ducts. She touched her own hand, cool and slack. Her fingers, translucent as mist, passed through without resistance, stirring nothing but a deeper chill. “Not sleep. Not a dream.” Panic rose, not as bile or breath, but as a tide in her core: vast, eroding. If this was the baptist limbo, why the awareness? Why the ache for Mom and Dad, waiting for me in their kitchen with Jettie's paws on the table begging for food? For Mason, out in the pines, radio crackling with calls he'd never answer for her?

Humanity, she thought in that suspended state, had it all backward. We preached finality to cradle our fears, built dogmas like walls against the wind of what comes after. But souls—if I “am” a soul I did not dissolve, my physical body only fell away. Spirit persisted, raw and reckoning, in the spaces we'd never mapped. And in that persistence lay the true terror. Not oblivion, but the unrelenting call to witness, to endure, to love across the unbridgeable.

Mayla began floating higher, then horizontally through a spectrum of colors like she had never seen before—a meadow bathed in white lilies. From afar Mayla noticed the silhouette again beckoning from where, she pondered. And in an instant, Anaya was right beside her, not gliding but “striding,” her etheric frame etched in the soft vestiges of eons—skin like the smoothest bronze with traces of gold, eyes holding the silted depths of deep blue oceans that had witnessed whole civilizations fall and be reborn. "This isn't a station for the judged," Anaya murmured, her voice a contralto weave through the hush, carrying the faint salt of foregone ancestors. “My dear Mayla, it’s a pause. A breath between inhalations. Look—there, in the gloaming."

The higher astral realm unfolded not as a burst of choral fanfare or streets of obsidian, but as a vast atrium of soft twilight—walls veined with the faint pulse of remembered sunsets, floors like polished porcelain with silver flecks. No gates barred entry; no seraphim stood sentinel, no Blue Mustang, no Blucifer hailing from the Denver International Airport, or anywhere else for that matter. The air hummed with the beautiful

sound of ocean waves crashing and birds bellowing low welcoming songs for new arrivals. No sighs from the newly unmoored, no rustle of forms coalescing like fog off a mourning river. Mayla had arrived, her essence a tentative shimmer, trailing wisps of the hospital's antiseptic bite and the rubbery screech of tires she'd left behind.

“Who are you,” Mayla asked. I’m Anaya, one of your spiritual guides. I’ve been with you all your life. Our earthly connection dimmed as you lived through your adolescent and adult years but I was always with you. “I remember, yes— when I was five, you sat at the end of my bed and prayed for me after I was molested.” Yes dear, that was me.That was a traumatic time in your life, of which still hasn’t been completely healed. But soon.
I have also connected with you in your dreams. Instilling the importance of understanding/innerstanding while still in the physical, that overcoming the fear of death is crucial and to begin exploring the possibilities of a nonphysical reality through methods like meditation, OBE’s — out of body experiences. If mastered, this could have given you a profound sense of freedom and intrinsic knowing. One of my skill sets as a 7 density spirit guide is to train souls in out of body experiences, like those shared by the Monroe Institute, hailed by Robert Monroe —while in the dream state, and higher states of consciousness. As you may have already figured out —dear Mayla, transition is not an end.

There is no afterlife in the traditional sense, Anaya whispered, there is no heaven or hell as you were taught to believe. Instead there is a continuation of existence, sometimes in a non physical forms. Consciousness, the Soul continues beyond the physical body. As you may have guessed, consciousness is the primary reality within the physical world —which just happens to be one of the many realities that consciousness experiences. Death in the physical is akin to a change in existence, where the energy of a person can continue life again as a man or a woman if they choose, or in a different form. We have much to discuss, please give me your hand. Mayla placed her hand on Anaya’s and they soared higher into a multi-colored sky that took them to an even higher level of the astral plane. The walls were translucent, the reds and yellows, blue, green and violets were of another frequency unlike our own, they were actually breathing.

“A whole new world,” Mayla whispered in complete awe. We’ll get to that, Anaya chided, but first I would like to make clear regarding this level of the astral plane, is absolute reality. The objects and inhabitants of this realm are real in exactly the same way as our own bodies, our furniture, our homes are real. You will begin to understand there are realities in this realm that we cannot afford to ignore merely because the majority of mankind is unconscious or vaguely conscious of their existence. On earth, there has been considerable misunderstanding of this question, the reality of the various planes of the universe. This is partly due to the fact that the word “plane” is loosely used. Some speaking vaguely of the mental plane, the moral plane, etc. In our solar system there are perfectly definite planes, each with its own matter and different degrees of density, and some of these planes can be visited and observed by persons still living.” - Excerpts from this author’s upcoming release, “The Moment After Death” by Carli Frueh. Set for release — July 4, 2026. DM on X for pre-orders @CarliFrueh .

#AstralPlane #SoulJourney #BeyondDeath #SpiritualAwakening #Goodreads