I dreamt that I was
going to die.
Soon.
I
knew it, and all I could think about was
peace.
I don't have any
diseases or
suicidal tendencies, mind you. I'm
wickedly healthy, save for a
sunburn and a runaway case of
emotional detachment that may be the best or the
worst thing for me; in the dream, I knew
someone else who was dying too. We were hanging onto the back of a pickup truck in my parents' parking lot in
my hometown. It was
twilight, sort of; the sky turned
grey to
pink like TV channels, as our conversation turned to and fro the impending
bliss.
I think I thought death would make me
omniscient. I even thought about
Kevin Spacey telling me, "
You don't have a clue what I'm talking about.
Don't worry; you will someday."
I also thought about the
Sassy aphorism, "
If I die, will they bury me with my braces on?" They would, I knew, and I didn't like leaving a
less than beautiful shell, but
that is all.
In the back of the pickup truck we rode to the
grocery store in
my hometown, the
sky still flickering, the scene still
tense and beautiful.
I don't remember anything after the shopping cart.