Dream in which my great grandmother was very sick and close to dying. She had an oxygen hose because, they said, she couldn't live ten seconds without it. She laid there on the bed stiff as a board & people went in to see her almost as if it was already an open casket funeral. Then she suddenly decided to get up, tossing the oxygen hose aside.
For the rest of the dream she walked amongst us and said the most amazing things. She really had it figured out; she had no regrets, and she told people with utmost sincerity the things she had always liked about them. She was fun to be around.
In the middle of a conversation I asked her how she could still possibly be alive without the oxygen hose. "I can't," she said, and as I looked closely at her lips I saw that they weren't actually moving. She didn't seem distressed, just laid down as if she was going back to sleep.
As she died she continued beaming her thoughts into my head. I saw, as if under a microscope, a giant foaming cellular structure that looked like the surface of water as it is brought to boil. Every second, more and more cells left, and as this happened I heard her voice describe how it felt to fade out of existence. There was no terror in it. It was calm, and grew quieter and quieter until it was silent, and the surface of the water was still.
Posted by Alan at February 25, 2004 02:10 PM