Last night a dreamt a rather ridiculous dream. It was sort of strange combination of Sherlock and Man vs. Wild and my actual life and the life of Laura Ingalls Wilder and the end of the world by evil robots. (Weird, right.) But there was one part that I can’t stop thinking about. In the dream, I died.
Ok, my family has never been very religious. So that’s partly what made my dream so interesting.
In my dream, my mom told me that I had a choice of where I wanted to go, and when I chose, I would face one last test to see if I was worthy of my final destination. She said that there was heaven and hell and the place for people who couldn’t decide. “Limbo.” Dream Me said. “No.” Dream Mom said. “The place for people who can’t decide is not like limbo. Limbo is painful, it is purgatory. The place for people who can’t decide is everywhere. It is all that there ever was, is, or will be in this universe and the ones beyond. It is sky and grass and air itself.”
Beautiful, right? Actually, I’m surprised my brain could be that deep while I was asleep. After that, it got weird… she explained that you could only go to the place for people who can’t decide if you ate this holy pomegranate. It was rather delicious, by the way. Then I had to bask naked in horses’ blood before Persephone, and she told me she envied me. (Interesting experience.)
And then I went to the place for the people who couldn’t decide. And it was… peace. It was the sense of belonging nowhere, being nothing, being transparent. It wasn’t beautiful and rewarding like heaven, nor painful and dreadful like hell, or damning and locked like limbo, just freedom itself. Or maybe doubt. But I guess that sometimes they are the same thing.
After having this dream, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens to you after you die. Yes, physically, your body is either burned to ashes or rots in a tomb, but what happens to all that other stuff? Love and memories and sorrow and regret and hate and goodness and faith and passion? Because that stuff, maybe you can’t see it or touch it, but it is strong, it is energy itself. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Reality Mom, it’s that you don’t waste energy. (Cause the damn electric bill doesn’t pay for itself.)
I am not religious, and I don’t plan on ever being religious. But because I do not praise Buddha or God or any other spiritual figure does that mean I’m a horrible person? No, I do not think so. Does that mean I should rot and burn in some hell after I die? No, I do not think so. If I do believe in some place you go after you die, I think you should be judged (by whatever spirit or higher being it is) on what kind of a person for you and the deeds you did in life.
Honestly, I would like to believe I’m an Atheist, I mean, I really thought I was for a while, but I suppose I believe there is some higher force out there- no, maybe not the Christian’s God or Buddha or Jesus, but something controlling our destiny. And I put my belief in this higher force into hoping there is something out there beyond death besides a rotting corpse.
Well, cheery talk!