I had a dream about the end of the world last night. It was not a dark dream despite the topic, because the end did not happen. It was supposed to, according to an ancient calendar, but it didn’t. All the damage and changes done to the earth by humans had changed the rotation of the earth ever so slightly, but just enough that it caused a meteor that would have ended everything had the earth been in the state it was at the time that calendar was made to just land with a large thud. Everything shook and I’d imagine entire populations were wiped out in a localized area, but the world was still there and I woke up.
When I was eleven (or maybe ten) at girl scout camp, an older girl read my palm. She informed me I would die at age twelve. As I approached age twelve, I slept less and less. Once I hit twelve, sleep was hard to come by. I would think of her prediction–it must be true!–as I laid there in bed and my mind would race. It would go from one thing to another to another. And I knew I was going to die. It would become hard to breath and I would want to cry but I couldn’t–it was all too much. Most nights I would crawl down stairs to sleep on my parents’ floor . . . I couldn’t die if I slept there, could I?! I remember one particular night that I went downstairs and I caught my mom watching some old western on the tv. I do not to this day know what it was, but I remember a young blonde boy or girl who knew he or she was dying talking to an older man about it. And it wrecked me. And I finally told my mom. And she told me that girl was full of bullshit.
And I learned to interpret the break in my heart line as something else. After all, it was just a break in an otherwise long line.
But still to this day, there are moments when I think of my mortality and just gasp. The train leaves the station and I find myself thinking of “what happens next?” and “where does the universe end?” and “WHY?” until I find myself having to sometimes literally slap myself in the face and say “NO! STOP THINKING!” until I actually do stop.
I suppose this is all normal; something we all think about but do not discuss unless in philosophy class or in church or with our scientist friends. But still . . . it gets me every time.
These thoughts . . . they really aren’t that dark. But they are there, hiding in the dark of my mind and sometimes I can be scared of the dark.
* * *
This post was written as a Just Write exercise. A good challenge to get the rust off and find my creativity once more. Bear with me while I attempt to find it!
Check out others’ Just Write posts here.