Treasure [h.s]

| 24 - Dramatic Nap |

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Come on, baby (don't fear the reaper)
Baby, take my hand (don't fear the reaper)
We'll be able to fly (don't fear the reaper)
Baby, I'm your man

Blue Oyster Cult - (Don't Fear) The Reaper
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I've spent a lot of time thinking about death.

How is it that the one universal experience that's guaranteed for every living organism in this world, is one of the things we have no answers to? Our birth is completely random. We have a 1 in 400 trillion chance of being here, but death is inevitable and certain for each of us.

We have stories from people who escape death by the hair on their neck, and their encounters are pretty even across the board. The bright lights, the out-of-body experience, the seeing a relative right before they cross that inescapable line. But I think that's just from the lack of oxygen or blood or some shit.

Where do we go when we die? I hope it's somewhere warm, but not like a beach. Maybe I can wrap myself in my favorite blanket forever. I wouldn't mind if Heaven was in the clouds, although I read somewhere that those are actually disgusting and filled with bugs.

I wonder if we get to pick the scent. I bet a lot of people would choose the smell of freshly passed rain or maybe their favorite childhood meal being cooked by their mother. I would choose the vanilla perfume that's soaked into every cell of my lungs.

Maybe you get no sense when you die. So much joy comes from sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. I guess a lot of bad comes with that too. Maybe some people died from eating poison berries and they don't want to taste anything again, so the rest of us can't either.

That would make sense as to why I didn't feel it. I thought dying would be painful. I'm kind of mad that it wasn't. I don't deserve a cutesy little painless death. I should have been shot or stabbed in the heart by that photographer motherfucker. I wonder if I'll see him soon. We probably won't end up in the same place.

Some people think we become our surroundings. Like your brain goes into overdrive and you can't tell the difference between your body and the world, so you just float around until eventually, you shut off.

Perhaps we're just stardust like the hippies think, soon to return to the nebulas. I hope we don't float around the planets, the vastness of space freaks me out.

Others think that with every death is a rebirth. You're matter, after all, which cannot be created or destroyed. I guess they think the same goes for your conscious. Your soul, some may call it. That just gets thrown around from one body to another, or something like that.

Maybe you just close your eyes and when you open them again, you're a baby coming out of your mother. Or a general sitting atop a warhorse. That would be fuckin scary, right?