I was surrounded by friends and family — and snow… Lots and lots of snow.
The setting was reminiscent of a dreamy chalet…
I’m struggling to put a name to some of the faces I see, most were recognisable, you-know, the usual suspects, but there was also some old friends that I very rarely see, stretching back to high school, that, for some reason or another, my sub-conscious can’t seem to shake.
What follows is the communication of my impending death.
I’ve had a few tests on my brain and blood post some unusual activity and the news isn’t good. I find out that I am terminally ill.
I’ve been given one day to live.
One day?!
When I fall asleep later that evening, I was advised that I would never wake.
It’s hard to communicate how I felt in this period, part disbelief, part acceptance. I think the disbelief ruled over my acceptance, like the misguided thoughts a teenager has of their own immortality.
The acceptance told me to embrace the inevitable and say my goodbyes. The denial brushed the assessment aside as nonsense.
There is a condition explored in psychiatry called ‘learned helplessness’ — a condition in which a person suffers from a sense of powerlessness, arising from a traumatic event or persistent failure to succeed. It is thought to be a leading cause of depression, now I didn’t have time to react in such a way, but from first hand experience, I feel a three month plus window would have allowed me to.
So what did my impending death mean to me?
No more consequences.
No more second chances.
No more time.
Time.
Time is becoming a major theme for me.
I attended an AA meeting with a friend in January and when I spoke, the only thing that came across of any substance was my anxiety surrounding time.
The clock is ticking.
I don’t need to tell you that most of us take it for granted. We all know the guilt we feel when we overindulge.
But, perhaps it is more complicated than that.
To quote the Merovingian from the Matrix Reloaded…
“How can we ever have time if we do not take time?”
Interestingly, my understanding of this quote has evolved and what it meant to me ten years ago is different to what it means to me today.
Eventually…
My body shut down and I reluctantly fell asleep, whether the prognosis was right or wrong, there was nothing I could do about it now.
Asleep?
Dying?
Dead?
Yet, several hours later, I miraculously woke.
I wasn’t healed, I was on borrowed time.
This borrowed time continued to extend in surreal circumstances…
Another day, another night, any moment could be my last…
What felt like an eternity passed… inception comes to mind… a dream, within a dream, within a dream… an hour in real time, a year in dream time.
And then one day I woke up. For real.
Relieved. Confused. Older. Much older.
So, I went to work that Monday morning (15/05/17) and I ran this weird dream by a colleague who suggested I look up the meaning — and it is the meaning that provided the main theme for this post — change.
Death means new beginnings:
Dreaming of your own death symbolizes inner changes, transformation, self-discovery and positive development that is happening within you or your life. You are undergoing a transitional phase and are becoming more enlightened or spiritual… If you dream of faking your death, then it suggests that you are taking control of your life and making a fresh start. You want change in your life.
Now, anyone that’s read Michael’s Diary. Identifying my Matrix. Then Destroying it. will know that I’ve been going through some major changes in 2017, well, I’m in the fifth month now and DEAR GOD IS IT HARD TO HOLD THE COURSE.
In January and February I was firing from all cylinders, but the truth is March, April and half of May have seen me fumble. Why is being consistent so god damn hard?
It was like I forgot everything I was so excited to remember at the beginning of the year.
You crack the code, you know exactly what you have to do and it isn’t even that hard, on paper at least, to achieve what you want to achieve... but, no matter what, your weaker, former self keeps beckoning you... tempting you back, like a former drug addict slipping into old ways.
And so…
Via the medium of dream
The simulation of my own death
The other side of me, the side I sentenced to death row without trial for so many years ago.
The side inspired by greatness, rather than the alter of instant gratification, was able to speak to me via my sub-conscious…
Crying out desperately.
Pleading for his life.
Begging me to remember a truth I promised I'd never forget again.
Time.
“GET UP — DON’T EVER GIVE UP.”