Death, sitting on the couch

November 28, 2008

In at least one of his books, Carlos Castaneda refers to imagining Death as your constant companion, always with you, always looking over your shoulder.

Tonight I don't have to imagine very hard. Death isn't behind me, looking over my shoulder. Instead, he's over there, sitting on the couch, eating two 100-calorie packs of popcorn, watching a holiday movie on my tv, while I'm sitting over here typing up this blog entry, feeling bad about a health problem (my prostate), and generally just feeling sorry for myself.

I drove home tonight in a mental fog, and rather than fight it I decided to just go with it. I noticed that if I crossed my eyes just slightly, making things blurry, there wasn't any real difference between this state of driving down the road, and being in a dream. It occurred to me during some part of this process that some dreams, maybe most, are a little blurry.

As I've noted in other blog posts, when I get into a mental state like this while conscious, the only real difference between this state and a lucid dream is when I touch something, or perhaps hear a loud noise.

Ugh, I just need to go to bed, which I'll do next. Hopefully Death will let himself out when the movie is over.

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