I stand on the street corner, my eyes fixed on the traffic light. The harsh sunlight beats down on my skin, and the air is thick with exhaust fumes. I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves. Suddenly, a car careens out of control, hurtling towards me. I freeze for a moment, unable to move. The car hits me with a sickening thud, and I feel my body being thrown through the air like a rag doll. I land hard on the pavement, my breath knocked out of me. I try to get up, but my legs feel like lead. Panic sets in, and my hands start to shake.
As I lie there, gasping for air, I catch a glimpse of the car that hit me. It's mangled beyond recognition, smoke rising from its twisted metal frame. My heart races as I realize the truth: I should be dead. But somehow, I'm not.
I wake up, my heart pounding in my chest. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, but it's no use. The fear is too real, too raw.
I check the time. It's still early, but I don't think I can go back to sleep. I get out of bed and pace back and forth in my room, trying to come up with a plan.
Maybe I could stay in bed all day, or lock myself in my room. But I know deep down that it won't make a difference. If it's meant to happen, it will happen.
I thought I was done with it all. The dreams, the glimpses into the future that I could never change. It had all been too much. Every time I closed my eyes, I was bombarded with visions of things to come. I tried to ignore them, to forget them, but they haunted me, even in my waking hours.
I had tried everything to stop the dreams. Sleeping pills, meditation, therapy. But nothing had worked. It was like my mind was cursed, condemned to see the future and yet powerless to do anything about it.
So I had given up. I stopped trying to fight it and instead embraced it, like a prisoner resigning themselves to their fate. I dreamed every night and woke up every morning feeling like I had already lived through the day.
But then something changed. For the past few months, I had stopped dreaming. I didn't know why, but I wasn't complaining. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could finally live in the present without the constant burden of the future weighing me down.
Until today.
I sit down on my bed, my head in my hands. I can feel the dread building in the pit of my stomach. The dream was too vivid, too real. I know what it means.
I'm going to die. Today.
I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. There's a heaviness in my heart that I can't shake off. I know what's going to happen, and there's nothing I can do about it. No last-minute change of plans or miraculous turn of events. Just a slow march towards the end.
I look around the room, taking in the familiar sights that I've grown to love over the years. The window looking out to rain pouring down and drenching the empty streets below, the worn-out sofa in the corner, the bookshelf filled with dog-eared volumes. They all seem so insignificant now, as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions from the inevitable.
Then I look at the pictures on the wall, and memories flood back. I see the picture of my parents, both gone now, and I remember their smiles and their warm embraces.
I think about my friends, or lack thereof. I've always struggled to make connections with people. I was too awkward and anxious, and I had always feared having a dream about something happening to my friends and knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it. But now, as I face my own mortality, those fears seem trivial. I wonder if they will ever find out what happened to me, and if they will care.
I don't feel sad or angry or regretful. I don't feel anything at all. It's as if my emotions have been replaced by a cold, numb acceptance of what's to come. I've made my peace with it, and there's no point in dwelling on what could have been.
I know I won't be missed. There won't be any tears shed or memorials erected in my honor. My passing will be just a blip on the radar, a footnote in the grand scheme of things. But that's okay. I never wanted to be remembered anyway.
I get up and start to get dressed and take one last look around the room. It's time to face the day, and whatever it may bring. Maybe it will be filled with joy and laughter, or maybe it will be filled with pain and sorrow. Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm ready for whatever comes my way, because I know that this is how it was meant to be.
Written: 2022
Comments