posted on Aug, 13 2004 @ 02:39 PM
About two nights ago, I had a wonderful dream. I died.
I was at my cousin's house (not really her house, but in dreams, stuff like that changes) when a murderer came into the house, trying to kill us
(this part of the dream is extremely hazy; all i really remember is running upstairs after a close shave. I'm kinda filling in the holes). We
narrowly escaped, and ran upstairs to hide. We reached a closet, and hid in a compartment-like thing. I quickly prayed in my head for God to forgive
me for all of my sins, because I knew I was going to die, and then the murderer opened the closet door, and shot my cousin and me about five times. I
felt the bullets' impact, but it didn't hurt. As everything became dark and fuzzy, I was aware that if I tried as hard as I could I could survive,
but that would be painful, so I let myself go. I felt like I was floating and couldn't feel my body. I remember feeling really content, like
everything was wonderful and peaceful. The only bad thing was, I knew my family would miss me and feel bad needlessly, "needlessly" because dying
was wonderful. I also felt kinda bad because I have allot of goals in life, and I never got to fufill them because I died so young. Then everything
faded to black, and the dream ended.
Weird, huh? The odd thing is, I *know* that this is how dying feels, and I'm not afraid anymore. When I have strong feelings in dreams, it feels the
same in real life. For example, once I had a dream I was on a rollercoaster. It was really fun and exciting, and I knew that in real life it would
feel exactly the same. (I had never been on a rollercoaster in my life at the time.) Months later, I went to 6 Flags and rode the Texas Giant. It felt
exactly the same as it had in the dream.