So much so that I decided to stop by a particular site and tell my stories to some people studying it. Because I like giving back to the scientific community ;)
As I was writing it, telling my story for what feels like the millionth time (it's hard NOT to tell these kinds of stories, to pretty much anyone willing to listen), I realized that I should probably copy it and paste it here, for you guys.
Because I don't know much - but I know that this life? it doesn't end here.
So here it is, my account of my ADC from a year and a half ago:
It was a particularly difficult night in terms of grief. I missed my friend more than I could express. I also lamented the fact that since his death I no longer believed in anything - all of my spiritual/religious beliefs had blown away like the wind, leaving me a void of faith. I no longer believed in anything. Nothing made sense anymore. I had previously been a spiritually curious person, but at that moment, I was empty.
I cried myself to sleep that night.
And then I found myself in a kitchen.
It was more like a kitchen on a stage, because only the table I was sitting at was illuminated, and the background was dark and hidden in shadow. The table was white and shiny and sitting at it to my left was my friend who had committed suicide months before. He wasn't wearing a shirt and looked incredibly muscular (far more than he had been in life) and his hair was cut quite short, revealing scars where the bullets had passed through his skull. But the fact was, they were scars, he was healed, and whole. And he looked not just healthy, but strong. Very strong.
I can't recall the exact dialogue here, but I knew that he was dead. He looked down at a scar that ran clear across his heart (again, it was healed). He asked if he had done that. I said yes, and he apologized, said he never meant to hurt anyone. I told him I missed him and he put his hand on the table. I held his hand and felt it. Really felt it. It comforted me.
He took my hand and stood up - aimed us toward a pair of swinging doors leading to another room. He told me he wanted to show me something.
I entered the second room. It was another kitchen (I later found out that his favourite room in life had always been the kitchen). This time it had checkered black and white tile flooring and all white cabinets. There was a sink, and below it all of the plumbing was exposed. By the way, Mikey (my friend) was no longer with me. I examined the spot underneath the sink. There was a wicker basket there with a pile of folded dishtowels in it. On top of the pile there was a limp sponge in the shape of a cat.
Suddenly the cat sponge righted itself and began walking like a cat. But then it shook and all of this water splashed off of it (because it was a sponge). On the breeze, Mike said "See what I can do now?".
I woke gradually from this dream, and not only felt calm but had a renewed sense of spirit - everything that I had believed prior to his death about the nature of life, the universe and everything in it had been restored - and not just restored, but my beliefs had become knowledge. Like I suddenly KNEW the things I had only theorized about before.
I also knew, without a doubt that Mikey was okay, and that he was strong again.
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