I don't know.

I don't know how my life will end up.  Even if I can think about it, and I can, it doesn't matter. At that point, I'll be toward the end of it, after all.  Maybe it'll end tomorrow, and I can think about how my life will be toward the end of it (sitting in a room with a computer and a cat?).

Unless post-life experience is made up of pure thought, and therefore my thought alone determines my existence.  If that's the case, then I can think I'm dead and be dead, but somehow, still be alive. I can also go to my own idealized version of heaven, or hell, or nowhere. 

It is a funny thought experiment, to allow the notion that post-life exists in a way that mirrors what we think it will be, especially if we couldn't reflect on the lives we just left behind.

Either way, I don't know.  I especially don't know what a thought-contingent post-life looks like when I don't know.

Kind of scary to think that I'm deluding myself--like I could be dead and not know it, or I could be alive and not know it because I think I'm dead.

It is also scary to think about a thought-contingent world.  I don't want that.  I want something to exist, even if it is big and complex and I can't grasp it.  I want to have a large scale order and meaning.  I probably won't ever get that either.  I'm just not that talented at thinking about it.

Instead, maybe I'll go for small level order, and accomplishing what I can accomplish, even thought it kills me not to strike out for that which is gigantic. 

Yes, that sigh you hear is the rush of my ideals out of the window.