I thought I died last night.
Evidence, however, confirms that I remain among the breathing, if not the living. I suppose that makes what I experienced a dream, even as it felt so very real. The shortness of my breath before lowering my eyelids was very real. Gasp…gasp…gasp. Oxygen at a premium.
I found comfort in the notion that I might never raise my eyelids again.
Why was that? Am I content with all that I have not accomplished in this lifetime? What about the unfinished 16th book, Chapter 17 this morning giving way to Chapter 18? The muse has flowed freely in the recent days passed, giving rise to an expectancy of completion in advance of another Christmas with no stockings to be hung.
Perhaps it was not a dream at all, but, rather, an advanced screening of what soon I shall live.
Only two were there to witness my walk to the other side, the loveliest of women, Sheila, and my eldest daughter, Krystal. Smiles and expressions of love and peace were exchanged as I approached the filmy, watery wall that divides the two sides of life. Yet one of them pulled me back. Which one I am uncertain, but what, of all that I have left undone, would she have me now do?
Breath comes easily this morning. Purpose does not.
It happened last night, just before 8 o’clock.
As I lay myself down to sleep, I lowered my eyelids and was about to rest my head on the arm of my loveseat when I saw a flash of light and felt a pull from an unseen, magnetic field. I paused and absorbed a flicker of dizziness.
I experience lightheadedness daily, but this was different.
My head, then my shoulders, began to peel away from my body, like the outer layer of an onion. It was a gentle separation, not an abrupt or harsh tug.
“This is it,” I thought, my eyelids still closed and my mind curious. “This is death.”
Except it didn’t feel like death. At least not the way many of us think of death. It was peaceful and inviting.
I waited, wondering if the remainder of my body would join my head and shoulders and rise as one to float above and begin the journey to the other side. I expected to hear a voice. I might have even been hoping to hear a voice, that of an angel. But the only sound was silence.
I instructed myself to open my eyes and sit up.
“I’ll just stay awake,” I told myself. “If I don’t go to sleep, I can’t die.”
But I couldn’t move. Whatever resistance I proposed to muster had now vanished.
“If this is how it’s going to end,” was my next silent thought as I surrendered to the moment and to the possibility, “so be it. I’m good to go.”
I lay my head down, not knowing if I would awaken this morning…but at total peace. I was smiling.