Thursday, September 27, 2007

Last night I had a dream that someone shot me in the head.... my Grandma's front yard, no less. I won't say who, because it was someone I know (and no, it wasn't my Grandma), but they were chasing me, and I knew if they found me that they were going to do unspeakable things to me (I think in the dream I knew why, but now I have no idea). Well, they jumped out from behind a tree and tackled me. I didn't know what they had in mind, so I said, "I'd rather be dead than....something something something." (I don't remember what I said.) So this person said, "All right." Then shot me right in the temple.

I felt the bullet go in; it was incredibly hot, like a poker being shoved into my brain, and I panicked, and I was furious, but only for a second. Then everything was black, and I was on the ground, and I could literally feel the life flowing out of me onto the grass. The only way I can describe how it felt was if you had visible black dots all over your body, and they slowly ran off your skin, leaving it white and empty. This actually felt strangely good, like climbing into crisp, cool sheets on your bed on a hot summer night. Then I just...went to sleep. I remember feeling relieved in the dream, thinking, God, I'll never see so-and-so again (I actually thought about one person), then thinking, "Oh well, this feels fantastic." Then nothing.

After that, I could see my body on the ground, and my corpse was smiling, and, (God, I hate typing this, because it's the most cliched thing ever) I did feel peaceful beyond words. I didn't even feel ill will towards the person who had shot me, who, by the way, was just sitting there, on their knees, staring at my body.

Then I woke up. I didn't wake up with a start, or feel freaked out or anything. I just felt perplexed, and I've been thinking about this dream the entire day.
You know how they always say that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life, and that's why you always wake up before you hit the ground, someone pulls the trigger, whatever? Well, clearly that's not the case. I feel like last night was probably a fairly reasonable fascimilie of what dying is really like. Carl Jung, in fact, who was a pioneer in the psychological study of dreaming, said that dying in dreams is often very pleasant, and people sometimes find themselves disappointed when they wake up.

What I will say is that my allergies have been killing me the last couple of weeks, and today has been the worst day so far. My head has felt like it's about to explode all day, and last night I had a lot of trouble going to sleep because I couldn't breathe and felt so awful, and my throat was sore and scratchy. Maybe those things are connected, who knows?

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