I Died Last Winter
I just died.
But before I forget how it all went down I'll try to get it out. Dreams are an amazing phenomenon that we've been trying to understand for as long as humans have lived. Before I explain my dream, let's set the scene.
It's exactly 5:39am right now. And I just had a crazy dream. Originally I woke up at 5am with my alarm clock tearing away what I thought to be an incredible dream where I died. I fell back asleep for 30 mins where I attended my very own funeral. It was surreal and a very interesting that my mind concocted this in just half an hour, or so I thought it did. I crawled out of bed like an injured 90 year extreme sports athlete. My mind was saying, 'quick, get this dream out on paper!' but my body was saying, 'dude, your back is mashed, you can't hop out of bed, just chill and go back to sleep". I was eagerly ready to write what had just happened in my head before the ideas dissipate forever. It had been my first time visiting my own funeral.
We've all had those incredible dreams and we've all had the memories disappear within minutes and sometimes seconds. There was a time when I had a pen and pad at my bedside with scribbles upon scribbles due to my first failed attempt trying to channel my lucid dreaming. As usual, my focus for that kind of dedication fizzled off. Carefully I creeped down the stairs as to not wake the family. Since I knew the funeral dream memories were limited to an hour at most I was anxious to get going. In a matter of minutes I made coffee, boiled water for my hotpack (it was a cold morning), grabbed my Marley Chant speaker, put on my Spotify sleep playlist, turned on my rock, sat down and began to write. The time was now 5:53 and I will write what I remember now.
I don't know how I died but I was at my own funeral. I don't want to be buried in a box but in this dream I was. It was an open casket and my loved ones were carrying my shell over their shoulders. I could see everyone and hear everyones thoughts. Because all I heard was love, I suppose deep down my hope is that everyone's thoughts of me are positive when I leave this earth. Just when I thought being at my own funeral was the peak of the dream it get's even stranger. My cousin died too. His funeral was immediately after or before mine. It was a dual funeral, I guess. It made sense in the dream, sort of. He comes back towards the end as the voice of reason or the supporter or something to that effect. The funeral service is short, but powerful and impacts me a great deal.
In this dream his funeral and mine were back to back so because I am there witnessing it from the afterlife, he his too. This was a massive development for me since now I had someone to bounce ideas off of. We didn't talk about how we died and other obvious discussions that you think would come up. Instead, we analyzed why we can hear what are loved ones are thinking and saying. He knows all the answers and has no problem being the voice of reason. The burden of now being dead is lifted because I have love at my side. In this new afterlife, I'm hoping that's normal. Perhaps this was an analogy to the living life. I'll elaborate once I get these ideas out. They are vanishing at a rapid rate. The time is now 6:12am.
Why we didn’t discuss how we died or why we our funerals are at the same time is exactly what makes dreams so fascinating. What we do discuss and try to understand is why we can hear everyones's thoughts and words. The conclusion of this conversation is unfortunately gone. As I suspected my dream memory is just bits and pieces now so I'll just write what I remember before those are gone too. The dream transitions to my spirit or me being in my kitchen. My wife opens up the fridge door. She can't see me nor can she hear me talking to her but I'm there just as I would be in the living life. I grab the fridge door and hold it open for her. Clearly she does't understand this but feels the energy and presence of the door being assisted to being opened. She pushes the door to a point where my fingers get sandwiched between the fridge door and the wall. I feel pain not in the physical sense but in my dream. I then remove my fingers. My spirit wants to be there for her during her mourning. I also know it must be very upsetting so I give her hug. This is tragic in every sense of the word because she doesn't want my spirit to embrace her. Devastated by the loss of her husband she can't comprehend why she feels the presence of me or something loving trying to be there for her. That is when I wake up.
Writing my dream down was my way of hoping these unanswered riddles can one day be understood. Truth be known I wrote this last winter and am just re-reading it now. I could quite easily edit this short article into a semi perfect crafted piece but I won't. I'll leave at this. My reasoning is this is how my thoughts were when i woke up and editing it will tarnish those memories to inaccuracy. In the future, maybe to look back at this post will help me to better understand why I was having this dream at the age of 40. I've long since lost my notebook with dream memory scribbles. I wish I hadn't. I'm not more interested in dreams now than I was then but there will be a time in my life checking back on dream memories will be interesting.