After falling asleap I walked myself to a class for those wanting to learn to die. When I came in, the instructor asked if I wanted to take the practice with or without drugs. The process, she said, would be same, that death is driven by acceptance and determination. The drugs were only there to relax more deeply into it. I accepted the pill and headed to the back left hand side of the classroom and a vacant stack of cushions.
Once there, I laid myself down comfortable and grabbed a book to read and rest for a bit. I sat up for a second to survey the room, and to my right saw a man who's body was contorted and burried beneath many large heavy books. His eyes were open wide and vacant and his tounge hung from his mouth a bit. He was not quite dead yet, but he was working on getting there. Strange, I thought, that someone should make letting go so painfully difficult.
I settled back into my pillows and closed my eyes to concentrate for the death to come. I saw the history of my grandparent's grandparents, and the history of their children, and their children's children. I recognized some of these stories as dreams I'd had before many nights ago. Dreams about graveyards where the headstones had been moved around and the spirits were restless.
I was watching all of this from the front of my brain with my open book spread over my belly when I felt someone tapping and then shaking my shoulders. My brother´s Tony and Ken and Ken´s fiance, Leslie were pulling me up from my sleep and lifting me up from my bed. I don't remember feeling angry or upset or happy to be back. I felt a little dissapointed that I had failed, but okay about being with them. Together we four walked out of a glass door in the back of the room and back into the world of the mundane.