I died last night.
It's a little fuzzy, trying to remember details. It's all slowly slipping away though, as everything else does for me.
I got hit by a truck, crushed against a wall.
Strangely, there was no pain. A surge of adrenaline as it was happening, but I think it happened too quickly for my body to tell my brain that it hurt. It was all over in an instant.
But mentally, that instant was stretched out. Like time had stopped. You know that thing people say, that their life flashed in front of their eyes? It wasn't like that for me. I do think it was a flash, but I wasn't replaying old movies of my life. I wasn't mulling over regrets or reminiscing about the good times. Do you want to know what I was doing?
I was doing two things:
1. Trying to figure out if it was real, and
2. Obsessing. Needing to finish whatever I was doing. I can't even remember now, I don't know what I was in the middle of. I was in the street, presumably, having been hit by a truck. Or on the sidewalk. Outside, anyway. But I know that I needed to finish my task, or complete my thought. Something was interrupted, and it was weighing heavily on my mind in the moment of death.
But beyond the automated part of my mind that felt frustrated at being interrupted during a task, I was also getting philosophical. Was this really happening? Was any of this real? Has it ever been? How is it that I can contemplate the fact that I'm dying? Why was I bothered so much, even at the very end, by the fact that whatever I was doing got interrupted? Who cares?! I'm dying, for fuck's sake! Why am I wasting my last precious moment being upset by something so trivial when I should be using what valuable seconds I have left to think about those I love?
But instead, I was stuck in my usual weird brain loops. "Nothing special happening here. Carry on with whatever you would normally do. Think stupid thoughts. Pay no mind to the gravity of the situation. Your last few synapses are about to fire, you should by all means continue to do your useless obsessing thing right now."
But, really... is any of this real, anyway? If I'm not truly giving this moment the serious consideration it is due, then how could it really be happening? Aren't I supposed to automatically play the movie of my life right now?
And to go even deeper, why would I waste my time asking that question? Again, I should be remembering awesome moments with my family and friends. Not wondering why I'm thinking about what I'm thinking. But again, that is what I do. I have missed a lot of my life due to stupid thoughts like these. Instead of simply enjoying moments, I would contemplate them. In real-time. While it was currently happening. I'd be distracted by these stupid thoughts, and I'd miss what was just said. There are a lot of holes in my life. And I blame these moments when I should be fully engrossed in reality, but instead, I would step outside of myself and start asking useless questions. And life would pass me by...
In conversation, most people can hear what the other is saying, contemplate what is being conveyed, and form an appropriate response that engages those with whom they are speaking.
I'm not most people.
I hear what the other is saying, contemplate what it means, how things got to where they are now, how I feel about it, how I might have reacted if that anecdote were to have happened to me, and contemplate what that means. In the meantime, the other person is still talking, but now about something else entirely. Now I'm panicking. What did I miss? Can I think back and piece together what I might have heard during my distraction and make a guess as to what they are talking about now? But I can't. I didn't catch enough of it. It's all broken up. And now I'm missing even more of it. Uh oh! They are looking at me, waiting for some sort of response.
Is this what I am doing, even at the moment of my death? Am I to waste even my very last thoughts on trivial bullshit? Why can't I just have a proper brain at the end? That's all I ask. Just for the last milliseconds to not be clouded by nonsense.
And that thought might have been what convinced me that none of this is real. Because if there is any justice in life, I would have clarity. At least in the end. When it really counts.
But hold on a second... why is this when it really counts? Why shouldn't my whole life count? It would be selfish of me to consider my last moment as the one that really counts. When I've been interacting with those I love all my life, missing important moments while thinking these stupid thoughts. Making those I love frustrated time and time again. Leaving an impression that I wasn't focused on them, not giving them the attention they deserved.
I've been selfish my whole life. Using up my preciously finite moments with those I love thinking asinine thoughts. Not on purpose, mind you. I'm not a monster. But does that even matter? The results are the same. I've made my loved ones feel unimportant. I will leave this life with an image of me in their minds. And that image will be of a distracted, selfish man. Who wasn't always there for them when they needed him. Because he was in his head.
I was in my head. Thinking about how I'm in my head.
And thinking that none of this can possibly be real. It's too stupid. What a waste of time! I've squandered it, therefore it must not be real. Because life needs meaning. And I have failed to give it some. So, selfishly, none of it is real.
And then I opened my eyes. The clock said 7:14. Which means I only got about 6 hours' sleep. Never enough sleep. That was a weird dream. That was a dream, wasn't it? It must have been. I was dying, and now I'm in my bed, looking at the digital clock on my bedside table.
I guess it had to have been a dream.
Just a dream...
But I'm still wasting time with contemplation as I write this blog. All part of my loop.
I'm still in the loop...
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