After Life

 Had a dream last night that I was dead and there was, in fact, a happening afterlife. It wasn’t a traditional heaven/hell sort of thing, no. Post-life was just a different dimension. From my new stiff-state I could check in on my former live-state but couldn’t interact in any way. Possibly this was due to all the planet's mediums being on their lunch break—no one was on duty to take my call?

Annoying but okay, fine. I started to explore Dead World and found that I was in a hospital. I had outpatient doc appointments and had to hurry up so’s I’d be on time.

Lemme just point out one little fucked up thing here—in the dream, I’m dead and STILL have zillions of big-ass med appointments. Even when I’m no longer sucking down oxygen, I’m at fucking Mass General Hospital! Could the universe, please, cut me some fucking slack?

The upside of this new dimension was that I didn’t need to walk. I got around like Casper—floating, flying and just zipping through the halls and walls. That was fun.

Possibly my weird-ass dream was precipitated by yesterday’s events? Hillel and I sat out on the porch in the abundant direct sunshine having mega deep convos about god, family, art and a bunch of other stuff. It’s the first time I’ve spent more than a minute outside in the scorching, almost-summer sunshine in a few years. Why the sol avoidance? Eh, I’ve been busy ducking COVID and having a bazillion neurosurgeries. Also, as The Amazing Bob put it, “we shelled out a lot of dough to buy this nice cottage, why would I sit outside of it?”

The point I’m getting at here is that, all that time sitting in the sun earned me a nasty sunburn. Hard to smoothly sleep with dreams of fluffy, sugar plum kittens when you’re a crispy critter.

Yes, my dead dream is totally connected to Hillel, sol’s blazing rays and me forgetting about the existence of and need for sunscreen. Really!