I died in my dream last night. And not a death at the end of the dream that snaps me awake, but a death at the beginning of the dream.
I was at Staples, and something happened. Not sure what, but I died. Scott found my body and was seriously freaked out by it. I was brought to the hospital, and was still sort of alive, but then I died, and was standing next to my body, a ghost.
I followed the doctor as she went out to tell Judy I was dead. She was upset, but I spoke to her, telling her I was still around. At first she couldn’t hear me, but eventually she could, and I was able to talk to her.
I knew that my body could be repaired, that I could come back to life, but that it was risky, because it would take a week to repair my body, and most spirits faded out after 3 or 4 days. I explained to Judy what needed to be done to my body to get it working again, and she agreed to take care of it.
Then I was on the beach, walking over the sand dunes with Snooj. He thought I should move on, that it was too risky to try to hold out for my body, that I should embrace the next plane. I nodded and pretended to agree with him, but I was still planning to try and last long enough to get back to my body.
I knew that if I failed, one of two things would happen, either I would dissapate completely, or I would lose my memories and become a haunt, thumping around between planes, bumping against reality like a moth against a windowpane, barely noticable but disturbing.
As time went on, I began to weaken. I watched over the proceedures done to my body. As I was about to fade away, I remembered something, some key truth that gave me power, and I re-formed, stronger than ever.
Finally my body was ready, repaired and in a temporary coma. I flowed back into it, feeling stiff but back on the material plane.
Then I woke up.
It left me feeling oddly refreshed, with an appreciation for life, and a carpe-deim sort of mood about me.