Flying

Last night I dreamed of dying. I was exiting I-95 on one of the ramps that curves so sharply that you have to go like 25 miles an hour, but I wasn't paying attention and took the turn too fast. My car spun and spun and spun, so fast, but it was staying on the road. I said out loud, "Lord." And in my head I thought, "Take me home or save me, Lord, whatever You want." The car kept spinning until it finally hit the wall and went flying through the air. I saw a lake and trees and the blue sky and braced myself for impact. The moment my car hit the ground, I woke up.

I was lying on my bed in the darkness, but my body was frozen and for a moment I was sure that this was it, I was dead. I could've sworn I felt the separation between my soul and my body, the way you see in movies where the transparent body gets up while the actual body stays down. I was afraid, but not as much as I would've thought I'd be. There was a strange sort of peace about it.

I have dreams like that often, where there's some accident and I end up hurtling through the air, anticipating a fall. Sometimes it's a roller coaster, sometimes it's a swing. The car was a first for me.

I don't think they mean anything. I just wanted to write this one down to remember it. I'm pretty sure it was brought on by me watching 49 Days and then driving to Cocoa Beach.