Another Dream

There were risers on the other side of the lights. I could hear them creaking and could hear mumblings like you often hear when you are waiting backstage. Except I wasn't backstage. I was being strapped to a gurney with leather straps. I could see the tiny table with a syringe on it. One of my arms was stretched straight out and strapped to an extendable part of the table. By the sound of the audience, I could tell there was a full house there to watch me die. All the movement was either behind the lights or behind my head where I couldn't see. I tried asking for someone to hold my hand, but my mouth wouldn't move. I wanted someone who loved me there. I could feel people who loved me behind me, but I couldn't see them. I just wanted to see them. I wasn't scared. I tilted my head up to see where the needle was going to go in my arm. I started thinking about what my last words would be, if I could get the strength up to speak. I wanted to talk about love, forgiveness and truth. And I just wanted to see people I loved.

When it is put that way, my life's mission seems so goddamn simple, doesn't it?