So many signs:
- the cats
- the crows
- the owl
- the clock
- the near-death experience
- my friend who died in his sleep
- little pin pains in my heart
- detachment from loved ones
- loss of appetite
- age spots
- tooth discoloring
- sleeping more, staying in my room, not going out
- loss of interest in things of this world
- constant thoughts of flying away and going back “home”
- visions of celestial beings
- preparing envelopes for the kids
- saying “I’m dying” whenever someone questions my behavior
- re-converting to God
Eighteen signs. I was born on the 18th. Now I’m dying.
Does a person intuitively know when death is approaching?
Or is this just wishful thinking?
And then the whole blog thing… When I started this blog my purpose was to write it, print it and leave it to my family as a kind of heritage or spiritual inheritance. A kind of summary of “This is what life taught me”. I’m not trying to gain followers and accumulate likes. I’m preparing my luggage. I’m packing up. I’m leaving.
My first blogposts are all about metamorphosis, transformation and death. I can’t get it out of my consciousness. The near-death experience was very vivid. I remember very clearly. The next day I knew. I had died already but was sent back to “wrap things up”. There was no doubt about it. As months went by, my mind stopped taking it seriously, but my soul didn’t.
Today I calculated the age of my death based on the age of death of my father, grandfather, great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather. If the trend continues, I will be dead by the end of next year. I even told my mother a few weeks ago when she came to visit and she replied: “No-no, you look very healthy.”
It’s raining right now. The sky is gray. I hear thunder coming closer. I feel solemn (a mixture of sadness, seriousness and peace), like when you know that something is finished, or… dead. I cannot envision any kind of turnaround at this point.
Is this simply depression or is it something else? I don’t know, but it’s raining harder. The raindrops fall heavily like bullets. I look at our rosebush outside the window. One of the roses is losing its petals to the rain.
It’s raining very hard now. The red petals fall to the ground like drops of blood.
Am I dying or just imagining that I am? I’m not sure if I should publish this or keep it private. I know, I’ll put it in the Impressions category with all my other weird ideas. But this is a biggie. Something has changed in me. I can’t tell the difference between what is real and what is not anymore. It’s all the same to me now.
Goodbye cruel world…
I won’t miss you.