This dream —
The first 95% was a mess. Ambiguous problems in strange yet familiar locations. A sense that certain issues were threatening to grow and threaten for certain; a vague dread, some of it perhaps work-related. None of this was important as it turns out
By the end of the dream I know I am going to die. Soon. There are moments left. I look at my son C.F., at his beautiful smiling face filled with love. I tell him that it’s time for me to go. I am ready and at peace; my own death is natural and inevitable, so why fear it? But as I dwell upon his smile I no longer feel quite so ready to go — there is more to do, things to see. I want to know how it turns out. Not that it makes a difference — death is here. I tell C.F. that I don’t really want to go but that it’s going to happen. I want to somehow impart something to him to ease the pain that will come, to help him make sense of this. He keeps smiling at me, and I don’t know if he’s heard a thing I said
It is happening
I lie down next to him and keep looking into his eyes as my senses fade into death. It is like falling asleep, but under pressure
Awaken, sit up slowly in bed. The clock says 5:03 a.m. Everyone else is asleep