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.