Over the last couple of
years, I have had a recurring experience at night after going to bed. It has
always been when I have been transitioning from the state of semi-consciousness
to the state of slumber. Initially, I refused to acknowledge this as nothing
more than a dream, maybe a nightmare at best. But as the frequency of this
experience has increased, I have begun to wonder if it is just a dream or a
premonition of something in my future, a not so distant future.
Let me recount the
sequence of events from the first time I had this experience. I had gone to
bed, looking forward to a bright, sunny tomorrow. I don't know how long I had
been sleeping or how deep my slumber was when someone shook me hard, like my
kids do to wake me up when I sometimes out-sleep them on Saturday mornings. I
woke up with a start and opened my eyes. I saw that I was lying on my
side, with my two hands crossed over my chest. I took in my surroundings,
the bed, the furniture, the room, the darkness punctuated by streaks of light
from street lamps coming in through the open windows. Everything was in place,
exactly as they were when I went to bed. It was when I tried to move my hands
to reach out for my phone that I started noticing the difference. I was unable
to move. I could see; but I couldn't move my limbs to touch anything. I could
speak, but no sound came out. My mind was fully functional; but only I knew
that. There was an absolute silence engulfing me like a shroud. I felt like I
was trapped in ice, sans the coldness, or in a vacuum-sealed room made of
transparent glass. Or a coffin with a see-through top.
An uncanny feeling of
desperation and helplessness crept over me. My brain was telling me to scream
out for help; it was telling me that if someone gave me a push, I would get out
of my frozen state and this nightmare will be over. I started calling my wife
with all my might. I called her name and asked her to shake me hard. Over and
over again. In different languages that I knew she understood, out of
desperation. She didn't respond; she was oblivious to my trauma. After a few
attempts, I finally realized that no sound was coming out of my mouth. My wife
couldn't hear me. She was right there, but she couldn't hear me!
At that moment, as I was
succumbing to despair, as the fight was slowly leaving me, I finally realized
that I was dead. That could be the only logical explanation of what was
happening. I had died, and I had not been prepared for it. It was over; I was moving
on, whether I wanted it or not. I - the real me, the soul - had left my body.
Panic started setting in. I tried to struggle in vain. A plethora of
uncoordinated thoughts raced through my mind - thoughts of unfinished actions,
unspoken words, incomplete amends, and unfulfilled promises. There was sadness,
there were regrets, there was fear, and rage brought out by helplessness. There
was also an understanding that was seeping in. And then there was this blinding
light - very bright, but very soothing, like an ugly deception that was
transforming into a welcome reality.
And then very suddenly,
someone reached out and shook me really hard, bringing me out of my reverie. It
was over. The noises came back, loud like the climactic crescendo of the Bolero
- the chirping of crickets, the humming of cars on the highway, the rhythmic
breathing of my sleeping wife. I moved my limbs again and again to confirm that
I was able to move; I made a loud, guttural noise to confirm that I could hear
myself; I sat up and grinned like a fool, beads of sweat on my forehead, my
heart pounding like a drum, relief gushing over me and making me shiver
uncontrollably. I was not dead.
That was then, two years
ago. Since then I have had this episode several times. But now I am wiser. And
more resigned. Now when I get into that state of death, I don't struggle and
fight. I just wait to see if this is the end, or something or someone will jolt
me back to life. I am convinced now that what I have been experiencing has been
a sneak peek into the process of dying - what a person experiences and feels
when he is transitioning from the mortal world to the afterlife. It is pretty
scary, especially if one is not ready to die when death comes calling.
Maybe I am getting
closer to the end, and this is nature's way of preparing me for death, for the
ultimate act of letting go of my most precious material possession - my body. I
don't think I am ready yet, but at least now I know what it will be like. Death
is like a scary horror movie, and my experience is like a very well-packaged
trailer. I hate horror movies. I do.
