>Last night I got killed. Somebody stabbed me in the back. It was frightful but painless. I did not even bleed.
Last night I got killed in my sleep. It felt so real I was afraid I would open my eyes and find myself dead. I could think, so I should have probably known that I wasn’t dead. But I haven’t died before, so I didn’t know whether dead people can think or not. I finally cajoled myself into opening my eyes and found myself still on my bed in my room and nobody behind me. I was relieved and alive and scared, all at the same time. If I was alive, who had died, I thought. Was this a sign, a message I needed to decode? Was somebody trying to reach me through a vision? (I’ve read too many books that say such things happen to think of this even while my body was wracked with fear). I grabbed the phone and dialled The Guy’s number who had left home for an early morning flight just an hour ago. He was okay. I could go back to sleep.
I have never seen myself dieing before, even in a dream. When I’m extremely unhappy I wish I was dead, but I don’t have what it takes to slash your wrists, to gulp down a bottle of phenyle or anything that could kill you, to jump from a high rise, to hang myself from the ceiling fan – I have none of that in me. I would love to stop existing but I’m always afraid of what if these attempts go wrong? What if I don’t die even after doing any one of these cruel things to myself? That would hurt. And I don’t like pain. I wouldn’t want to be alive after trying to die. So I never think of trying.
But I’m digressing. Here I was feeling dead and this was no dream, probably a hallucination, a half-dream. But who died last night, I wonder…