a dream

I had a dream the other night.
I dreamt that I was going to die.


It's a surreal feeling, when reality morphs into imagination, and imagination into reality, a calamitous assimilation of the two until one melds into the other. How does one describe when a dream-like state is no longer a dream? Every pore in my being, every emotion becomes

amplified.



I feel my heart

race,



every sound,



every breath of wind,



it is transcribed and forever etched into my mind.



I became the dream.



I walked down a corridor and thought, within my head, within my head, a sort of mise en abyme and with the realization that I was to die, felt myself grow cold all over.



I saw, with sharp clarity, that if I died, I'd have nothing, be nothing.

There was a impetuous cumulation of facts - that there was no certainty to what would happen to my soul (if in fact, I even possessed one) - that I'd reached the age when I realized that life was truly beginning and it was already over - that ironically, this couldn't be a dream, because during the enterity of the moment, I wished it were just a dream, but realized that it felt too real to be simply a hallucination.

And then, as suddenly as it occurred, I awoke.








Take this moment as you wish, as either a premonition into my future, or an allusion into my deeper soul.

The truth is, when I awoke and felt the light flood my room, took a deep breath of air and realized that I could do it again if I so wished, I felt God for the first time in a long time.