Afterlife

I had a dream last night that I was dead. For the first part of the dream, I was getting ready to go to my uncle's funeral. We were living in Portland, but it was warm, and by the ocean, and people were coming down to see us, but then it was also like Moses Lake because I think we went to visit my aunt and uncle's house. It was odd because I remember talking to my uncle, and he was supposed to be dead, and this didn't seem unusual to me.

I spent some time swimming in the ocean, because my uncle had left me a whale. I had met the whale before, and it would let me hold on to its tail so we would swim around together, and it was amazing.

Then I had to go back to shore for the funeral and my dad sat me down and tried to explain something to me. Then I saw my aunt and uncle and I could see that they were both looking young and perfect and terribly beautiful, and it dawned on me that the three of us had been in a car accident together and that all three of us had died, and I was still clinging to life. My aunt hugged me and told me I had to let go, that there was something amazing to look forward to, and then I found myself lying down, frozen, and people were gathered around me, worried. And I could see in my mind's eye the most beautiful sunset and feel that wonderful things were just around the corner.

So I laughed to let everyone around me know I was happy I was going to a better place. Then I was briefly standing with my beautiful aunt and uncle by the lake at sunset, and I saw my mom. And I was so happy to finally see her again, and it wasn't at all bittersweet; it was as though she'd never left me. And then I had just a moment to wonder when my dad died, how it would be for him to see both of his former wives, and the spell was broken, and I woke up feeling confused.

I then lay in bed, fully awake, trying to puzzle out if I could logically conclude there is an afterlife based on my dream. I wish I knew.

Make the Most of Today

I was eating the kind of Dove candy that has a little inspirational fortune-cookie type message on the wrapper, settling into the couch to read To Kill a Mockingbird and that's what the message said to me. I looked at it for a moment and thought perhaps I should be doing something else, but I generally don't believe in fate or whatever telling me what to do, especially through candy wrappers and whatnot. So I read a little, and absently opened a second candy.

"Make the most of Today."

That's what it said. Two candies, same message, one right after the other. I, being the sucker I am deep down for believing in fate and signs and destiny, stared at the little gold wrapper with a feeling of swelling hope. Two candies has to be a sign that I ought to be doing something else with my day. I have errands I need to run, people I ought to contact. Maybe I should do that with my day instead of reading a good book and eating chocolate.

I'm sure I wouldn't be so easily persuaded by the mystery of the candy wrapper if I could see the manufacturing process. I'm sure looking at all those little foil wrappers with the messages pre-printed and generic lined up on some assembly line would ruin the sense that when I open the candy, the message suddenly comes into being, rather than having been there the whole time.

But then the reality of it sets in as I finish the thing up and the shimmering feeling of something around the corner wears off. If I didn't have any errands to run, what would I want to be doing to feel as though I'm making the most out of my life. And the answer really is that half the time I'd rather be doing just what I was when the candy started all this: curled up on the couch, reading a good book, eating a chocolate. So why shouldn't that be the most of my today?