This past week or so, I’ve had horrendous nightmares about dying. I suspect this all fears related to the fact that I’ll be a dad in a few weeks, and despite my excitement, it’s scary as hell too. Here’s a sampling:
- Walking across the Granville St. bridge, I’m overcome with the need to throwmyself of the bridge. Which I do, only rather than landing on the water and drowning, I impale myself on a passing sailboat. I die as I slowly slide down the mast. I can distinctly see my blood & entrails on the mast as I slide down.
- Crossing Seymour St, on Drake, I have a brain aneurysm. I collapse, face-first on the street, breaking my teeth. I watch them bounce onto the pavement, blood pooling into my eyes.
- Sitting on a plane, going through a heavy thunderstorm, I’m suddenly sucked through the window of the plane. My body breaks to fit myself through the small hole. I, inexplicably given the fact I’m in clouds, watch the plane recede rapidly as I tumble through the air.
- Walking down the stairs in my apartment, I trip on the cat, falling down the stairs, breaking my neck. Leah comes home and calls 911 to rescue me, but in moving me, they kill me.
- Running through an empty field of wheat, I’m sucked into the sky, slowly suffocating as I get higher and higher. This dream is agonizingly long.
You get the idea. Like all dying dreams, I of course wake up at the exact moment that, in the dream, my life would finally end. So if I seem a little tired when you see me, you know why.