Dream Zero Zero One

I was breathing heavily. I was sweating. I have never been more glad to be awake. It was that time of the night when satan is at his (her?) busiest. It would have been a good idea to go back to sleep, but I did not.

So, we were in a room I cannot describe. I was the only male. My mother was sitting directly opposite me. I don’t know how we got there, but I know what we were doing - viewing a body. It was about to be buried.

Bodies are never inside, especially hours just before a burial, but this one was. It was my grandpa’s body. I was asked to view it. I never view dead bodies, but for this one, I had to, especially after someone caused a commotion by saying it was someone else in the coffin.

The coffin was opened. He was there. It was my grandpa, but he looked nothing like him. His face was lifeless, his jaw sucked in, and his eyelids were open, showing his white eyes, pupils swallowed into the skull.

I asked why his eyelids weren’t shut. Nobody answered. Then he rose. He sat up like The Undertaker in the 90s wrestling. Great core strength, grandpa. Then he got out of the coffin and walked to another room. He didn’t talk. He didn’t ask what was happening or why many people had gathered in the room. He didn’t ask for tea.

I was shook. Everyone else seemed fine, like this was normal. Like they had witnessed this occurrence before. People started gathering their belongings to leave. They grabbed their handbags and put them on their shoulders.

I shouted, asking what was happening, but no one seemed to hear me. I was crying that cry that comes from the chest. That viscous nose juice dripped from my nostrils. I pulled it back in as I tried to be more audible. Nothing. I wanted someone to tell me what was happening wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure which part I didn’t want to be true - him waking up or the people’s reaction.

I was alone in a sea of people minding their business. When I opened the door he had walked through, to look for him, to confirm what was happening, I woke up.

If there is anything here, may it be me waking up from the things I need to wake up from. May my life wake up from the slumber it has been in.

Occasionally, I do have intense and vivid dreams. I try to write them down as soon as I wake up, the few I can remember. Was looking through my journal and most of them happen in March. Does that mean anything? Let’s see how many of those I will share here.