A philosophical question

She was draped in white and her hair was shiny blond. She was about 45, thin and beautiful. I recognized her instantly, though I was sure I had never seen her before in my life. She gently took my arm and led me into the mansion. Marble floors seemed to caress my feet as I followed my Angel through the columned corridors. The walls had a peach hue and sunlight seemed to sparkle in the texture that surrounded me. Complete peace was flowing through me, as if I was meant to be here all along. She began to speak in a language I was not familiar with, almost code. And she flipped through card after card revealing details of my life that I was sure she couldn't know. But she did know, all of our Angels know what we have done, where we have been, what we have loved. And my Angel was no different.

I should have been scared, because of what Angels represent... death. But I wasn't scared. I was happy to be there, reviewing my life in this beautiful, familiar dialect. I knew that this was a happy review, because she was smiling and kind. She knew about my family, my wants, my needs, and the things most important to me.

Then something changed. We weren't talking about all things in past tense. Of course, this wasn't death, but a warning. I had another chance to change my ways. Something was deeply troubling to my beautiful Angel. She was concerned for all the time I had spent on one thing in particular. "I know, you are right," I said, with the first inkling of sadness since I arrived here. "I know what I must do."

It would be something that would take all my will power to give up. It was something that I had spent too much time on. I was instantly reminded of the parable taught in the scriptures of the man who had so much. He asked Jesus what he needed to do. He was a rich man and Jesus asked him to give away all that he had and follow Him. And the man walked away sad because he had much. And so did I. I was being asked to give this thing up that had given me such joy, such pleasure. But could I do it? Was Heaven worth it? Of course I would. How could I even think about not?

Then I noticed a most peculiar thing. My Angel, my beautiful peaceful Angel was smoking a cigarette. What Angel does that? What does this mean? It's a dream, I tell myself as I am roused awake by the cry of my young child.

It was just a dream... weird... it felt so real. Thank goodness she was a Smoking Angel... or it might have been a premonition, and I might have felt the need to fulfill my promise.

So I pose this question.... Twilight or Heaven?