I don’t dream much, but every few years I have a dream that sticks with me; as vivid as if it were real.
The other night I had one, and in it, I died of COVID.
At first, it was all running around as one does in dreams, trying to figure out what was going on; why nobody would talk to me.
And then I realised — I was dead.
That was it—no more Ben.
All I could think to myself was, “THAT’S IT. You’re DONE. All you’ll ever have done is what you’ve done already.”
And it was sickening.
I was angry.
I’d done nothing, and now I couldn’t do anything about it.
It was all over, and I had just gotten started.
Boy, was I happy when that alarm clock woke me up.
Happy to be alive!