Last night I dreamed I was on a boat and I died. My body (I was still in it) was thrown overboard. As my body began to gently sink, I could see the sky above me. It was as if I was looking through a porthole. Then I felt my body being nudged upward, like a dolphin might do. I then heard a man's voice coming from the boat saying, "Old man, leave that young woman alone." My first thought was "I am not young." I then thought, "Ah, yes. Death is birth. The old become a new young." I was not afraid. I had no sensation of the water. I was not breathing, but I was comfortable. I was surprised by the nudging and lifting, but I did not find them annoying. I was captivated by the way the light glistened above me. I think I appreciated being able to look up, but strong emotions were not present. There was no struggle and no fear.
A couple of nights ago I came home to find Tyler engrossed in a show about Albert Einstein. In about five minutes, maybe less, I was laughing. Obviously, my daily worries contribute almost nothing to humankind's understanding of anything about this world, much less the universe. Consequently, I think I shall throw my old bag of woe and care overboard and live on in freedom.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,"
even the darkness is as light to you.
How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast the sum of them.
I try to count them - they are more than the sand.
I come to the end - and I am still with you.
Psalm 139:11-12, 17-18
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