Last night I had another dream.
Lately I've been dreaming a lot this past year. More so that I usually dreams.
Some of my dreams I remember, most I don't remember. However, I do remember the intensity of the dreams.
I think I'm dreaming more lately because of the number of deaths and serious illnesses of relatives (my younger brother), friends (my ride to the Philly airport) and neighbors (my dear next door neighbor).
As I've often stated many times before in this blog, I am not afraid of death. Death to me is the final act of living. Next month I'll be 78 years old. I've had a damn good run. I've been more fortunate than many with the life I've had and continue to have. However, I do fear the way I'm going to leave this earthly plane. I don't want to go in prolonged pain and dependence on others during my Final Journey. I prefer to pass on in my sleep.
When I die and I will die, I am fairly certain that death is the eternal rest. There will be no golden gates awaiting me with an old man with a long white beard a book checking my sins to see if I can pass into the gates of Heaven. That's all man made fiction folks. No disrespect to those of you who practice religion by going to church and those bible studies. Whatever makes people comfortable and helps then get through life with less stress and give their lives meaning, I'm all for it. But, if there is an outside chance of something at the end of that long tunnel with the blinding light that awaits me I think it will be my beloved Pomeranian dogs and especially my little buddy Horace that will await me. And that folks is what many of my dreams are about, Horace is waiting for me.
I used to have these dreams that I forgot to put my pants (and underpants) on and I'm wandering out in public. Oh how often I have had those dreams and I don't know what in the hell THOSE dreams meant. I would always wake up in a sweat after having one of those dreams.
These days I wake up after having a dream of either Horace (my Pomeranian dog) waiting for me or my Mother, sometimes both. It is odd that no one else in my life awaits me in my dreams. Maybe that explains the only times I've cried when someone close to me has died has been Horace and my Mother. I didn't actually cry out loud when my Mother died but I felt like part of me was torn from my body and psyche. When Horace died I didn't cry until the next day when I was at work and realized I would never see him again. I couldn't control my crying and had to go into the bathroom until I got myself under control.
I know I'm probably wandering here in this blog post, usually I try to keep them focused on the title of the blog. Here I am going on about death again as I have in previous blogs. But I believe my recent spat of dreams are affected but recent deaths and terminal illnesses in my life.
When I awake from one of these dreams about Horace or my Mother, sometimes both the same dream, I feel exhausted but also a sense of relief knowing that this might just be what awaits me when after I post my final blog. If so, then that surly would be Heaven.
Whatever happens when I die, I know that either the mythical afterlife we've been spoon-fed by religion is waiting for me or just nothingness. Probably nothingness but one thing is for certain. I will no longer feel this sense of sadness that I have to live with every day of my life now.
Now, today is a beautiful fall day with crisp temperatures. I think I'll take a bike ride and let that autumn breeze caress my withered face while I contemplate my possible reunion with Horace.
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| Horace, my Mom and Me - my two best friends |