As I moved away from the scene almost catching some sidewalk in my rush, I wondered what exactly I had just witnessed.
There was running and screaming. Something violent had occurred; what injuries or death had happened I could not know in my haste to get away from the chaotic scene–mostly car lights and throngs of anxious and confused people. I was one of them.
Here I was outside my old middle school after a party or something like that trying to get away from something I innately understood to be dangerous.
The ambulance lights still colored the scene in strobes that were hardly celebratory; I joined a conversation about what was going to happen next, celebrate our escape when I learned from one of the people gathered in the huddle, “Darlene’s dead.”
Immediately I was made to understand how I had escaped so easily.
In fact my escape had been the result of a bumbling clumsy jog as I kept turning behind me to see what was going on. And now that I thought about it I was getting that maybe this was why no one seemed to pay me any mind as I milled with the now-onlookers.
Maybe this explained, too, my relative calm. I had rushed, but what had made me think that turning around to see what was going on was a good idea? It had never worked in the movies.
So this is it? Death? Apparently I had moments to adjust to the fact that I was to soon join the community of ancestors, and in those few moments I also had to gather my disbelief and make a decision: what do you think happens when you die?
What is it, darlene, that you believe?
I was asking myself impatiently because I think I’ve either thought death swift and judgment immediate. Or, more recently, realized I didn’t really have the judgment thing figured out and so I did that dangerous thing we the living do: counted on having more time.
Yet here I was: out of time.
[Read more about Daydream Sequences here.]