They don´t know they are dead.
I keep having the same type of dream, it´s been happening for years now. I always wondered what it meant, where it could come from, it doesn´t really relate to any life experiences I´ve had. I can remember such dreams ever since I was a teenager. I´ve finally decided to face a few things about myself, like all the shadows I see in corners, the strange dreams and the knowingness that comes with it all.
There are no coincidences, or maybe it was a coincidence. Recently I heard a story that made it all fit in together, here it goes:
It is said that on a dark and foggy night a truck driver, let´s name him John, was rushing home to his wife on the night she was giving birth to their first child. He had the money needed to pay the midwife and the child´s comforts. He had to hurry so the midwife wouldn´t refuse to attend to his wife. On the way over the he hit a bump and the truck toppled over the side of the road. John got out of the truck, and knew that he was only a couple of hour´s walk away from his wife. So he decided to walk as fast as possible to try to reach his wife in time. Surely someone would give him a ride. He took his envelope full of money and started walking. There weren´t many cars on that road, but the few that passed ignored him completely. He kept on walking and walking, the mist got thicker and somehow he found himself back at the truck not knowing where he might have turned around and gotten lost. So he decided to start walking again, nothing to do but try to reach his wife. After what seemed a like a very long time, he was completely desperate, he kept getting lost and going right back to the truck every time. At some point in his despair, he wailed to another truck driver, and decided to stand in the way even if it meant he would die. At least the truck driver would have to get out and see the envelope and hopefully deliver it to his wife. To his surprise the truck stopped, and a friendly young driver, Peter, opened the door. John explained about his wife, and gave the young man the envelope full of money. Peter was concerned, he took the envelope, and drove to the address indicated on the envelope, it was a short drive after all. As he reached the address, he was told that the people who lived there had moved to the other side of town a few years ago. He thought it odd but decided to chase it to the end and went to the new address right away. An old lady opened the door, and told her that she was John´s wife, the person he was looking for. Her husband John had died many years ago the night she gave birth to their first and only child. His truck ran out of the road and he died immediately, they had said. Yet, the envelope was written in his hand, and inside were a lot of old bills.
This is how my dreams go, minus the Peter part. I dream that I am John, and I am trying to get somewhere, or complete something desperately and for some reason I never manage to get there. Sometimes I´m a teenager, sometimes a young man, sometimes an old man, sometimes a girl my age. I live it as though it were me, I live through the struggle, the stress, the anguish, the violence, the neverending circle. I´ve died a thousand deaths without knowing it. I´ve been trapped in the struggle, the neverending cycle of unknowing your own death has already happened. Sometimes I´m mysteriously suddenly joined by a father or a mother, come to keep company but unable to help, on occassion there´s been an angel. Not that I ever know they are also dead. I dream the endless loop for what seems like an eternity, always striving, never reaching. Then I wake up in a cold sweat.
A couple of time´s I´ve had the gift of living through an accepted death, don´t know if this one was really mine.
This time I was a young soldier fighting a nameless war, must have been in the last 100 years since there were guns and mines and bombs and barbwire. First or second world war. I was with someone I thought of as my brother, laying on our stomachs and trying to crawl with our guns toward the enemy. We were under heavy fire. I was very scared, so scared that my brother would die and I couldn´t save him, so scared that I would die. I could remember the last time I had seen my mother and father back home, the last hug I´d given them. I thought of all the pain they would be in if I died this young in a pointless war. I thought of my sweetheart, we were promised to marry, we´d lost our virginity together right before I left, I wished we hadn´t waited so long. I was so scared to die, so anguished, bullets were flying everywhere, the enemy was upon us. There were shouts of pain high and low. And suddenly I thought, ‘ok, I’m going to die, so be it’. And an immense incredible sense of peace flooded over me, all those things I’d been anguished about a microsecond before didn’t matter anymore. My parents would learn to deal with it, that was their lot in life, my sweetheart at home would find someone else, beautiful girl that she was. My brother would also die, and he would have to accept it himself, for that is something no one can do for you. I understood that in that moment. I felt incredible peace and acceptance, in the middle of the horrible battle field. I died at peace, it was as a beautiful violent death.
Light and dark. Ying yang.
I think I remember the peaceful deaths just so that I can deal with all the other unaccepted ones. There are so many who have died in violence, or shock. So many who simply do not know that they are dead and they continue on trapped in their own anguish. Now when I have those dreams, after I wake up I can think about it and know when the death happened, but in the dream I am as unknowing as the restless dead themselves.
This is what it means to feel what others feel. This is what it means to be an empath and feel spirits. I FEEL them as though it were me. Denying it, blocking it, wishing it away, protecting myself, doesn´t make it go away. It just manifests as stress in my body if I don´t accept it. I accept it now. I can protect myself now, now I know that it is not my struggle, and that is protection enough. I remember that a violent death can be peaceful.
To all the namless unknowers, all those souls, may you accept your fate, may you find your true death, may you finally lay your head and die, give up the ghost, rest in peace.
To all those alive: If someone you know is dying let them go in peace, help them go in peace. As for yourself don´t seek death, but when the moment of death comes, and it will come, look it in the eye, embrace it and accept it. Die with integrity, die honorably, and rest in peace.