The whole experience seemed like something from a movie. The kind you want to get up and walk out of.
I looked out over the bed I was lying in and looked down on the ashes of my misbegotten youth. It was like looking over an open grave. I didn't know whether to curse or pray as my mind went back a million years to a somewhat celestial nightmare. Moments of magic, decades of destruction, fragile, tender, star-crossed, deathbound, heroic, beautiful, hopeless, immortal, mortal. Dancing with angels, struggling with demons, and finally understanding the wisdom of the Roger Miller song, Don't Write Letters To My Dog.
It makes you stop and consider what your life might be worth. Somwtimes your life runs out before you do, that is what happens when you realize you have spent your entire life operating your brain on one cylinder most of the time. How in the hell did death sneak up on me like this?
The body can quit working I discovered, but that doesn't mean the mind does. I wasn't about to deny HIS existence at this time. No man is an atheist when he thinks he is dying. It was quite ridiculous when you think about it.
I felt a giddy flashback of backyards 1950's summertime in Texas. Childhood pranks, Christmas tree forts, stirring up a hornets nest then running for your life. No matter who you are, running for your life can be dangerous, tiresome work, I reflected very briefly, but it sure beat jogging. The veil of childhood lifted, blood began returning to my heart and stain my dreams. I felt strangely at peace.
An unfamiliar voice asked, "How do you feel?'
I whispered as best I could, "This dream is short. But this dream is happy."
Watching the slow decay, first written 2. Jan. 2009
4 months ago