Last night I had a dream or a vision or something that I was dead. In this nocturnal aberration, I was looking down on my dead body in a casket. There I was in my black suit with my white shirt and a blue and black tie. I was about the age that I am now and oddly enough I had a moustache again. I hate moustaches but Donna always liked them on me.
I remember being jolted back to reality and waking up in my bed. I was somewhat gasping for air, as I struggled to regain my sense of reality in a totally darkened room. The clock on the bed stand said 3:24 a.m. I propped up my pillows and took a few deep breaths while my blood pressure returned to a normal level. I tried to put the image of me on cold ice out of my head but I have to say the image seemed just a little too real for my comfort.
I normally remember every dream I have to the most minute detail, but on this night, there were no dreams that preceded my death vision. I was asleep one moment and staring at myself in a coffin the next. I don't think the episode lasted very long, but I'm not sure. I just remember noticing the details of the coffin and what I was wearing and that damn moustache. There was no one else around. The room was white and I was dead.
If you're wondering if I searched the Internet for a website that deals with dreams about death, the answer is "DUH!", of course I did; but I don't think this was a dream. And I certainly didn't agree with any of the interpretations I was reading. They just didn't fit. So, what are the explanations? Well, maybe it was some sort of vision. Maybe I am going to die and this was a warning. Or, maybe, just maybe, I died.
On more than one occasion, Donna has shaken me awake after I stopped breathing. She says I snore really bad but I don't believe her. I stayed awake one night to see if I snored but I didn't. Anyway, she says I snore and then I take this deep breath and then I don't breathe for a while. She says it becomes so quiet that the silence actually wakes her up and then she notices that I've stopped breathing. She says that I will normally start breathing again with some deep breaths but every once in a while she grabs me and shakes me to get me breathing.
So, did I die? I mean, there was a white light that filled the room. I didn't see Jesus or any other loved ones; just me in a box; with a moustache. I have no idea what that means. Nobody said, "Bill, it's not your time...you have to go back." But then again, all near death experiences probably aren't the same.
So, what am I to do? Well, for starters, I am not growing any damn moustache. I figure that if I don't grow a moustache, I can't have one in my sarcophagus. Therefore, by deduction, if I don't grow a moustache, I can't die. And another thing about the whole sleepy horror show is that I'm going to be cremated anyway. So, there will be no pine box for the worms to dig into. OK, no moustache, no coffin, no death. But it sure seemed real. Maybe I shouldn't eat a personal supreme pan pizza before going to bed. I'm sure that had a little something to do with it.
Be Well.
Bill
