breathing: in, out. in, out.

Understand, it's different than normal thoughts of death. The wondering about where we go after, if anywhere--that's standard operating procedure. The myths and metaphors and all those things we can consider using academic reasoning, nodding our heads calmly, our loved ones waiting in the other room.

I'm talking about the actual stark reality that the way you perceive everything ends and the feeling this realization brings. This bed is no longer a bed, the dresser belongs to another reality, and if you close your eyes they won't open again. When you get so frightened as you climb into bed that by the time you pull the sheets over you, you are stiff as a board. You think: this I is no longer I. If go to sleep I won't wake up. You think: this is silly, I'm going to go to sleep now and when I wake up in the morning my bladder will be full and my left shoulder will ache and I'll get out of bed and go brew a pot of coffee and feed the cats.

But can you be sure?

Death is inevitable, of course, and you know that intellectually and emotionally. But you have so much left to do! So when you do wake up the following morning even the sleepstuff caked over your eyes becomes a miracle, a gift worth studying. I am here once more! You and many others. Yes, some left overnight but you were not one of them, not this time. Your morning piss never felt so good. All the machinery still works, and by the time the first cup of coffee is consumed, it is running just as smooth as it can be. Even the aches and scars are things of joy, proof that you are alive.

But what if? What if you don't wake? Do you see the stars or blackness? Dummy--you won't see anything, your molecules dispersed and disintegrated. The thin thread holding consciousness together dissolved. Not even horror has figured out how to approach this; most works end up with someone experiencing the unknown through their human perception. The human consciousness can't perceive things any other way, which is why every work of art examining the infinite ultimately falls short.

Heaven would be *awful.*

Still, the fear. It returns as the day fades. Dinner is consumed, dishes done, plans laid out for the next day. Plans that assume you will be here the next day. These plans, they are a defense. You can't die if you have plans for the next day! Nope, nope. Take your bath and brush your teeth and replay the day in your head. It was good, wasn't it? Every day you breathe is a good one. You won't stop breathing overnight, really. Oh, those dreams might get dicey and you'll never shake that feeling that everything is falling apart while something beyond your comprehension is bearing down on you...but you'll still breathe, and you'll wake up, and it will all be ok.

Hopefully.