I dreamt once about death. It seemed like a huge space of nothingness, but I'm pretty sure that it was smaller than it looked. It was nothing like a void, but there really was nothing, and no one besides me. I was crawled, holding my knees, just floating, gently, slowly, feeling nothing. Not a need for breathing (it didn't matter how much I enjoy it), not a desire to open my eyes. I didn't think of how my hair wasn't moving as it's supposed to, or how I was only in robes with no cold overwhelming me. Pretty much, I wasn't thinking at all. I think there was no need to.
It wasn't like I didn't feel anything anymore, though. I could recall each and everyone of my memories, even the meaningless ones, if I wanted to. I had no difficulty doing so. I remembered what it was like to feel everything. Nevertheless, I did not concern about the ones that I had left behind - Maybe because, with them, I had left behind my heart also. I'm not sure, and I guess I'll never be.
But even so, I would not struggle to recall those memories. Maybe it was because of the peace of the mind they always talk about - I highly doubt it -, maybe it was because it didn't feel right, or maybe I didn't need it. I don't know. The one thing that I'm certain is that I, was, not, thinking. At all. I was just floating by.
There was no smell, no taste. My whole body, wrinkled as a raisin, would not feel anything by touch - maybe there was nothing to feel. There was just this seemingly big, pitch black, almost round, space. It felt just like any other normal persons' dream, except that, this time, I would hear what it seemed to be a pounding heart. Sweet, quiet, slow, eternal. It was calm, it made me feel calm, more calm that what I already was. I think it was mine, I'm not sure.
There was no time. Well, not the regular kind, at least. I would be just spining around veeeery slowly for a certain amount of "moments", some quicker, some just lying there, waiting for the next card to drop, until I bumped into a stellar cloud or something - kind of white, similar to constelations, mostly spirals - and we would start to "talk". We actually never spoke a single word, but I felt that we were developing some kind of weird relationship. It felt really similar to having a conversation, so I guess that's why I connected the dots after the dream. Once we finished "sharing", or whatever the hell that was, the nebulous would just banish.
No, there was no God or anything. There was no judgement either. Nor my grandfather, nor my fishes, nor my previous encarnation's lovers, nor nothing. There was just me and the space. It wasn't like I felt sorry or sad to be alone. I think I wasn't feeling anything. I was aware that my life had ended, and that was it. There was no need for me or anyone to know anything else.
The very one thing that really blew my mind was the fact that I did not feel any regret. Now that I think about it, it's rather painful. How could I not worry? How could I not think of what I left behind, my family, my writings, my beloved characters, my (undeveloped yet) personality, which I seemed to have lost too? I wish to think that it was for selfishness, just to convince myself that I could feel something. Anything.
But no. I did not.
Not even joy. Not even peace.
Just.
Nothing.
For ever.
... But as everything else, I guess there was no need for me to feel so; For me to be sad, for me to overthink, for me to want to go back...
And maybe... just maybe... it all was for me to NOT want - even THINK - to go back. Because it couldn't happen.
That experience was really life-changing. It made me fear death a little less. I still think that dying and becoming something that exists, but doesn't feel, not even glances or listens, is horrifying. But... I won't feel that horror once I crossed over, because... I won't feel anything.
That's why I want to feel. Feel a lot of things, emotions, sights, tastes, smells (well, not so much). So I don't have to feel like something was missing just before I die. Just for that mere moment, and a life's work will be thrown down the drain.
- Fraction of my will.
Pronto, versión en español (sí, porque la escribí en inglés - quien me conoce sabe que siempre me ha gustado más el inglés que el español - y me cuesta traducir, graciaaaaaas). It wasn't like I didn't feel anything anymore, though. I could recall each and everyone of my memories, even the meaningless ones, if I wanted to. I had no difficulty doing so. I remembered what it was like to feel everything. Nevertheless, I did not concern about the ones that I had left behind - Maybe because, with them, I had left behind my heart also. I'm not sure, and I guess I'll never be.
But even so, I would not struggle to recall those memories. Maybe it was because of the peace of the mind they always talk about - I highly doubt it -, maybe it was because it didn't feel right, or maybe I didn't need it. I don't know. The one thing that I'm certain is that I, was, not, thinking. At all. I was just floating by.
There was no smell, no taste. My whole body, wrinkled as a raisin, would not feel anything by touch - maybe there was nothing to feel. There was just this seemingly big, pitch black, almost round, space. It felt just like any other normal persons' dream, except that, this time, I would hear what it seemed to be a pounding heart. Sweet, quiet, slow, eternal. It was calm, it made me feel calm, more calm that what I already was. I think it was mine, I'm not sure.
There was no time. Well, not the regular kind, at least. I would be just spining around veeeery slowly for a certain amount of "moments", some quicker, some just lying there, waiting for the next card to drop, until I bumped into a stellar cloud or something - kind of white, similar to constelations, mostly spirals - and we would start to "talk". We actually never spoke a single word, but I felt that we were developing some kind of weird relationship. It felt really similar to having a conversation, so I guess that's why I connected the dots after the dream. Once we finished "sharing", or whatever the hell that was, the nebulous would just banish.
No, there was no God or anything. There was no judgement either. Nor my grandfather, nor my fishes, nor my previous encarnation's lovers, nor nothing. There was just me and the space. It wasn't like I felt sorry or sad to be alone. I think I wasn't feeling anything. I was aware that my life had ended, and that was it. There was no need for me or anyone to know anything else.
The very one thing that really blew my mind was the fact that I did not feel any regret. Now that I think about it, it's rather painful. How could I not worry? How could I not think of what I left behind, my family, my writings, my beloved characters, my (undeveloped yet) personality, which I seemed to have lost too? I wish to think that it was for selfishness, just to convince myself that I could feel something. Anything.
But no. I did not.
Not even joy. Not even peace.
Just.
Nothing.
For ever.
... But as everything else, I guess there was no need for me to feel so; For me to be sad, for me to overthink, for me to want to go back...
And maybe... just maybe... it all was for me to NOT want - even THINK - to go back. Because it couldn't happen.
That experience was really life-changing. It made me fear death a little less. I still think that dying and becoming something that exists, but doesn't feel, not even glances or listens, is horrifying. But... I won't feel that horror once I crossed over, because... I won't feel anything.
That's why I want to feel. Feel a lot of things, emotions, sights, tastes, smells (well, not so much). So I don't have to feel like something was missing just before I die. Just for that mere moment, and a life's work will be thrown down the drain.
- Fraction of my will.
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H.D.
2 comentarios:
I had a different experience when I dreamed (I prefer dreamed rather than dreamt) of death. It was horrifying. I couldn't handle the fact that my existence was over, even when I could concioussly be aware than I was dead. I mean, I knew I was dead, but that was the only thing I could think of. My existence was limited to that very knowledge, and I couldn't think of anything else than the darkness around me and the inability of expand my own mind.
So, I think exactly the opposite to you. That dream made me fear death even more.
Ohmygod. You gave me a twitch ><
I think that those dreams relate to the hopes, dreams and fears of everyone. Actually, I am really convinced that death is different to everyone, and it's strictly intertwined with who and what that person is. Our cases are a perfect example.
Maybe I'll write a book about this - Well, I already have a short story, about a guy who dreamt that a group of 5 beings covered in cloth told him (in some kind of metaphoric code) that he would die at exactly middawn. It's really cool, I'll make it a shortfilm instead, cuz it will look awesome-er xD
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