I was in a large white space, like something in between a hospital and heaven (how heaven looks in the movies, anyway). There was a room with a row of gurneys with sick people on them. There was a doctor, and he told me gravely that I had “organic brain psychosis,” and it was terminal.(As a side note, “organic brain psychosis” is not a real disease, and just something my dreaming mind made up.)
Over the course of the dream I got sicker and sicker. At one point, I knew I was about to die. Three friends were there and one carried me up an escalator that led to a vast open space, with no ground.
He put me down and I floated there, in the air, with everyone surrounding me. I felt myself getting weaker and weaker, but I wasn’t afraid. My eyes started to hover in that space between open and closed.
My eyes were just about to shut as I took my last breath, and then… I woke up.Intense, right?So why should we bother understanding our dreams? I could have said to myself,,,,
