I have never had an ugly dream where I got up in the middle of the night sweating and palpitating. I would like to though, would make me feel like that guy in the “November Rain” video. Statistics have shown that most such people were having nightmares about being trapped, suffocation, arranged marriages, free-falling…mostly, deathly dreams without the ability to do anything about it except to get more scared till such time when they shocked themselves awake!
The good thing is that this made many swear off marriage. Almost all of them even managed to go back to sleep. I couldn’t. Reading about such stuff put one thing in my head – death, when it comes, comes without a warning. No save-the-date cards, no placemarkers – just pure stiffness and numbness all over all of a sudden.
Almost everyone starts thinking about the essence and meaning of life and seek justification of some purpose in death. Nothing of that deep sort ever occurs to me. Also, I would like to see how my life flashes before my eyes because given my ailing memory, it would appear quite the synopsis.
When I think of dying I am haunted by more serious issues. Issues like who will be the one to stumble across my ugly secrets? I can imagine just about now, they are giving off my clothes in charity when someone finds my secret porn stash or some rolling papers or something like that. (I am citing examples to illustrate, please don’t rummage through my cupboard for Playboy back-issues or weed!) What will I do then? Well I would be dead so wouldn’t be able to “do” anything at all but imagine how people would feel; people who had spoken highly of my good deeds et cetera. All baloney now!
What if I had been a great bloke except for a few such pet peeves? As in, my life may have been not that of a saint but I wouldn’t have been a frequent-flyer sinner either. What would happen to all my goodliness post the unearthing of such “incriminating” evidence? Will they see me for my good deeds or label me a perverted old coot posthumously and eternally?
Imagine, someone could find your love letters to the maid, your list of odd morbid fears, your personal hate scrap-book…just about anything! And now, if I die in today’s times (which I think is mostly unavoidable) they won’t even have to search much. Just browse through my hard disk and find enough material to crucify me; pull me back from halfway to heaven and U-turn me down towards the fires of hell.
I don’t have any major purpose behind this piece. Just helping you plan your journey better. Also takes a load off my chest. But right now, I am off to take that load out of my chest of drawers; death can be so fatal to your reputation!
