Somewhere a woman was singing. I sat up, trying to remember where I was and how I got here.

The woman was actually a few feet away, changing a bed. I was in a comfortable,  man eating beanbag.

So I asked her.

"Who are you and where am I, and why don't I remember..."

Then I knew who I was and went quiet as it flooded through me. I was, or had been, a dead man, and before that, I had been old...

Very old.

And now I was younger, not a youth, but mid twenties. Before I had lived 437 years.

She was looking at me. "What do you remember?"

"I remember... Dying."

"That's... That's actually good, Mr Bramble."