THE DREAM

At the beginning of the dream, I sense people walking, more like marching, along a trail to some unknown end. I am with them, both inside of myself and outside of myself, watching. I hear a voice, maybe just sense its presence, saying “this is where they all kill themselves.” It seems now that we are walking toward the “suicide bridge” at Cornell University. There is the feeling of some sort of void in the air. Perhaps there are no other actual people around, they aren’t exactly palpable. They are either just a presence that I sense, or spirits of some kind. We get to a wall, and I look down, a sheer cliff. It occurs to me that this wall is not to be jumped off, but there is some other way of dying here. I see a rope ladder and begin to descend. All around I still sense voices, people. Then I am alone, in sort of a cave. I hear a hollow dripping, coming from all around me. Something tells me that “this is where the sacrifice takes place.” I’m not sure that I know what is going on. It is fairly dark in here, but lit by a red light. I approach the inner part of this “cave” and see a figure lying on the floor, with several heavy stones or boulders around. It seems that there is a fire as well. I am somehow informed that this is the body for the sacrifice. It doesn’t seem that I watch all that long, but several people get the chance to be the sacrifice, someone kills themselves, the soul or whatever goes into the body lying down, that body gets up and walks away. Then it’s my turn; when I realize this I know that I don’t want to die, but I sense anger in the room, like why did I bother going down there. I should not upset who or whatever is in charge of all this. And old woman, I think, is next to me. I hear muttering, a crowd seems to be trying to decide how I should do it. As the gun is placed in my hand, I again don’t want to die. I know that I must though, and think that maybe it will at least be painless. I sit there for a while, maybe only a few seconds, thinking, contemplating, whatever. I make up my mind and suppose that it can’t be all bad (it may occur to me that I don’t HAVE to do this, but I SHOULD). I walk with the gun over to the place where I lie down, or maybe I’m sitting all along, it’s kind of hazy. I lie for a few minutes, getting a feel for it. I gather my courage, and it’s almost like I’m feeling dared no. I decide just to do it, and all of a sudden sit bolt upright and shoot myself in the forehead. I feel sad and confused, like I didn’t really have to do that, and start to cry. I am bawling, when feel a great sense of peacefulness wash over me as I lie down. I feel very peaceful, and realize that death isn’t so bad after all. Blackness begins to come over me, I think to myself, “ah, so this is what death is” and all is becoming black, everything, I lie there and begin to feel that I am floating. I realize that I feel as if water is washing over me or I am drowning because of the way I can’t breathe, or breathing is becoming difficult. The gunshot hadn’t really hurt, it was hollow and became a dull throbbing of sorts.

When I woke up, I was s cared, I felt very frightened and I couldn’t breathe.