DJHJD

DJHJD

Monday, March 09, 2009

The dreams of my death are...

Pretty darned cool!

The other day, I was enjoying the random nonsense themes that my brain was generating (if you stop and reflect instead of letting it rule the roost, it's very much like having Lewis Carroll writing you a personalized fantasy all day long). As the monkey mind was spinning around, one of the thoughts that passed through was of serious illness and I re-assessed the idea of death. Most of my prior contemplations about death focused on anger, disappointment, or loss. This time, I was okay with it all. Okay as in I feel like I've gotten somewhere with this experience of life, and if it were my time, I'd be okay with it.

Perhaps that contemplation led me to this morning's multi-media dream event about my own death, but it was pretty darned cool.

As evidence for this being a sleeping dream, allow me to share with you that the circumstances and place of my demise were that I was about to make my first appearance as the Wicked Witch in a Broadway touring production of "Wicked," and would have been the first male cast in that role. I was in costume, and working with the production manager who had herself played the role of the witch, and she was showing me how easy it was going to be to fold myself in half and have only my flagellating arms and legs poking out of the hole in the stage that would facilitate the sequence where I was "dissolving" after having been doused with water. There was lots of gauze, and lots of activity (and the show was going on right then), and I went back around the curtain to prepare for my entrance. Just then, I gently fell to the floor, in a pool of muslin, heavy velvet and gauze and realized I was having a heart attack.

The dream continued with me calling on people who were yet alive, and with whom I had a strong emotional connection. My visitations with them were joyous; I was filled with love for them and for our relationship together. Occasionally, one of these people was able to perceive me as if nothing had changed, and we had conversational interaction.

Guy and I had some time together, going through a grocery store as he loaded his basket with items needed at home, and the two of us chatting about psychology, human behavior and airplanes, just as always. It was immensely rewarding.