At night under a full moon with a slight chill in the air and not a cloud in sight, sitting in a comfortable chair on the deck of a small log cabin overlooking a tranquil lake surrounded by forest, illuminated by the moonlight. Preferably on the west coast in the Sierra Mountains mountains of California just as fall is turning to winter. Bundled up in a warm, soft blanket with a bottle of sweet red wine next to me.
A meteor shower would certainly add some magic to the air, as well as the smell of smoke from a distant campfire. No sounds or music except what nature provides.
I know it's a little melodramatic, but I am a child of the night. Always have been, even at the end.
If there is an afterlife, it would have to try pretty hard to beat my heaven.