I dreamed that I was going to die.

It was an amazing sensation, from what I can tell from my hazy memory.

I felt helplessness, yet acceptance. My hopes for the future flashed before my eyes. Curious, I thought it was supposed to be your past that did that.

Then came my life. It flashed before my eyes. And I mourned my death.

I panicked, because I didn’t know how to spend my remaining hours. All I thought about was my family, then again mourned my future.

I realised that it didn’t matter, that I’d be dead, and not feel anything.

I tried to comprehend that I was about to stop. That the one constant thing in my life, my consciousness, was going to stop.

I accepted it all, again, then started worrying about family. How was I going to walk downstairs (I was in my bedroom) and spend it with them?

When I woke, it was relief like an other after a bad dream.

I have experienced the knowledge of my own demise, and lived. Very few people have had that.

I feel strangely privileged.