Very odd dream

I really do mean to write light, fun entries for this blog.  But since writing entries for this blog at all is such a rare event lately, my 3 readers are just going to have to take what they get.

My dream last night was probably one of the strangest I've ever had.  As I woke from it, I remembered that I had dreamt the prequel to it the night before.

The first dream was about a visit to some kind of doctor who told me that I had a condition that required a medical procedure, some kind of surgical thing, I guess.  I didn't fully understand.  The only thing was that the procedure was sure to kill me.

In the second dream, I had made my peace with the fact that I would die.  I had also made an appointment to have the procedure done the following Tuesday.  I went through my day to day life, letting people know that this was my last week.  It was mostly all very conversational.  "Oh, yes.  It's treatable, in fact I go in on Tuesday to have it done.  I mean, I'll die of course, but, you know..."  and the other person might say something like, "Yeah, yeah, my uncle had that, too.  He got the procedure that made him die and everything was fine after that."

With some people it was more awkward.  I could tell they didn't really want to talk about it, so I didn't press the issue.  With some people, I knew they did not want me to have the procedure.  It was optional, of course, but if I didn't have it, I would live the rest of my life in this condition.  The funny thing is that my condition had no symptoms whatsoever, now that I think of it.

I joked about how I was obviously going to take the week off work and use my credit card for anything I wanted.  I was mostly matter-of-fact about the whole thing, but certain things would make me feel emotional about it.  When someone suggested I should have lunch at all my favorite places that week, it made me feel very emotional.  When I thought about not seeing the next episode of some stupid TV show, it was agonizing.  But when I talked with the people I love, I knew that not even my death would separate us; that in some spiritual way, we would all go on together no matter what.

I think it may have been connected to a guest I had at the salon earlier this week, who, for various reasons led me to believe that I might be giving him the last haircut he ever got.  Little things like that upset me with regard to death.  I read a story about a family losing a child in a freak accident and I feel bad for them all, but it doesn't touch the pain I feel when I read the menu for a death-row inmate's last meal.

Happy Holidays, everyone!