When I was younger (much younger) I had a series of dreams. These dreams were very realistic in the effect that I was able to have all my senses functioning during them... meaning I was able to smell, taste, hear, see, feel everything going on in the dream. Just as I (we) do in the waking world.
What these dreams entailed however was my dying, or in the process of dying in a myriad of ways; Being run-over by a semi, getting stabbed in the heart, shot in the back with shotgun, shot in the head, someone breaking my neck, falling (lots of people have these but falling down a ravine and feeling every bump, rock and bounce on the way down ... not free falling), being attacked by various large animals including but not limited to bears, sharks, tigers, wolves, elephants, bulls, etc. etc., being crushed, being pulled apart and so forth. Of all these dreams I always woke up right before the final moment of death. These dreams were in succession (and at random from the above listing) until the drowning, of that I recall vividly...
Seems I was swimming (but location is vauge at this point, could've been a swimming pool, ocean, lake, pond, where-ever) and dove under the water... but when attempting to surface, it was as if someone laid a large piece of plexiglass over the surface of the water and I couldn't get through. I fought and punched and kicked frantically because I didn't take a deep enough breath to hold for very long. I could feel/taste the water going in to my mouth and lungs and filling them, replacing what precious air I had left.
Eventually my efforts weakened and finally I began to sink and drift. I recall the sensation clearly of my mind's eye fading to grey then closing to darkness, I could feel my-"self" leaving my body, being at peace, being content, ready to go where-ever.
But at the last moment I fought and kicked my way back to the surface, wholly determined to break the barrier above me. My hands outstretched I reached the barrier and shoved as hard as I could.
Cold air hit my face and from the light of the streetlamp outside my bedroom window I could catch a faint imprint of my face on my pillow, breathing hard and rolling over and finally sitting up... I realized how close I came to suffocating on my pillow. I recall that I flung my pillow to the far corner of my room and didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
Since that night my "death-dreams" stopped and never returned. To this day I'm still trying to make sense of them and what they mean... I was never fascinated with death nor did I watch horror movies or read horror novels frequently. Later I did (and still do).
I honestly think that if I didn't decide at the last second before my soul/ spirit/life-force/essence/WHATEVER left my body my parents would've found me dead the following morning of asphyxiation/suffocation.
Right now, I can honestly say that I do not fear death. I don't want to die of course like any normal SANE human being and will FIGHT to stay alive, but afraid to die... no because it's not as terrible as it seems... not the final moments.
