"I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it."Mark Twain
I spend a lot of my time thinking about what life means to me. I read ravenously, trying to find some sort of clue to an ultimate truth I can work to or at the very least, an inkling of what's in store for me in this world and the next. Sometimes, I get very vivid and damn complicated dreams about spiritualism and existentialism. Like last night, I had this... what I would call a false-continuity, paramnesia dream. That's what I call certain dreams of mine which seem to play out like the sequel of previous dreams I had - except, I never actually had those previous dreams (maybe I did have them but my conscious mind simply can't call up the memories but I won't think too hard on that because there's simply no way of finding out for sure - just like a lot of the hard questions in Life). Everything and everybody made me feel as if I've seen them somewhere or sometime before in some dream-version past.
I dreamed that I was dead, after being executed for the the crime of attempting murder on Jackie Chan. It's the sequel to that dream which I never actually had of accidentally stabbing him in his stomach with an icepick. Then, I spent the whole dream wandering about invisibly like some sort of wayward soul, stranded and unable to move on to wherever I was suppose to move on to. In my dream, I noticed that there were no other dead spirits like me about, so I conjectured that there must be some final resting place which all of them ultimately ended up. I asked the only people who could see and hear me - my grandmother, my father and Jackie Chan - about that; about this elusive afterworld which I couldn't seem to find and more importantly, why I was the only one who couldn't.
No one could give me a satisfactory answer, or as I mused in the dream, no one actually knows for sure where they go after they die. I spent a lot of time haunting the movie theatre because that's one of the only few logical place for a ghost to hang out in for all eternity. I always thought that movie theatres house a lot of wandering spirits because when you are invisible, intangible, undying and bored, what else is there for you do to amuse yourself? I spent many years there watching movies alone. I tried shouting in the ears of some of the moviegoers there but not a single one of them could hear me. I stood in front of them and they looked right past me.
Nearing the end of my dream, I visited a travel agent's office and found, to my surprise, that one of my classmates, albeit one I'm poorly acquainted with, was working there. She could see me, hear me and even touch me. Maybe it's all those years I spent being incorporeal and unable to physically interact with anyone, I don't know, but I wanted so bad to kiss her. I think that's the thing I'll miss the most after I'm dead; warmth and lips. I just stopped caring and kissed her. Then I undressed her and made love to her. It was at this point that I had a dream-breaking epiphany; there is no afterworld for me because I never really believed there is one. Why then was I looking for something I don't think exists anyway?
P.S. Sorry for being unfaithful in my dream, Phoebe. It's out of my control and I seriously never thought of doing such a thing before - just like how I never thought of accidentally stabbing Jackie Chan in the stomach with an icepick.
Has the weirdest dreams,
k0k s3n w4i