I died. I was older. I was in my grandmother’s house, in her bed, with a woman. She seemed to be my lover, maybe just a close friend. I laid on her chest and we waited. We knew I was dying. My eyes got heavy and eventually shut. I was able to watch myself from a different stand point. A man come over, the girl couldn’t see him. He pressed something against my side, it didn’t hurt, but then it was like I woke up. I asked the man if he was God and he said yes, this is death. I asked what I was supposed to do now and he said to go be. I asked if anyone would ever be able to see me, he said no, not even other who have died. I felt really lonely. It was like I was alive still, just no one could see or hear me. I could pick things up, I could use things, but those things stand in place for the living. I can’t describe how lonely I felt. There was someone, I can’t remember who, who could sense I was still hear. He talked to me, hoping I could hear. I could touch his arm and he could faintly feel me. I think he may have loved me.
I’ve always wondered what death was going to be like. I’d like to believe either A) You go to heaven/hell where you are reunited with loved ones. or B) You just begin a new life without remembering the old one.
This dream, this option I never thought of before, terrifies me, but it better than thinking that it’s just darkness afterwards.
I can’t talk about this anymore.