I dreamt of dying
My friend’s 6-year-old nephew, who likes to dress up in super-hero costumes nearly daily, complained today about some minor ailment. A few hours later, in the E.R. because that was the easiest place to bring him, he stopped breathing. A scan showed that he has a mass on his heart, and, at last update, they were draining excess fluid from his brain. His parents are sure that he will be disappointed, when he wakes up, that they had to cut his super-hero costume off of his body in order to treat him.
I dreamt of dying tonight.
The details of the dream, which probably do not matter, involved a large ball of cancer, inexplicable weight loss, and an unsure outcome. Upon awakening, I thought—quite a bit—about this truth: I am, just like you, dying right now of a terminal disease called “life.”
Perhaps this is a gift.
Tonight, upon awakening from my dream of death, I thought about my life. I realized that even if I were going to die as in the dream, I believe that I would take the same overall course of action in my life as I am right now—with some tweaks. That was the gift: it confirmed for me that I am willing and committed to do that which is hard because I believe it to be the right thing to do, not only for myself, but for my family as well. The steps along the path I need to take are not incredibly clear, but I believe that the process I am going through is the right process. “Would I still do this if I knew I were going to die?” — this clarified the issues for me, and the answer is “yes.”
But, it is now almost 5 A.M., I am finally sleepy, and my thought process, relative to writing, has become sluggish. So, I return to sleep, perchance to dream.