The day I died it was raining...The day I died it was raining. I had waited for so long for rain to come to the desert and now that it was here I couldn't enjoy it, since I was hovering somewhere bodyless over the wetness watching the pieces of my discarded flesh being loaded into the trunk of a car.
I knew my boyfriend wasn't the one who had done this, but I had questions. How could this have happened without my noticing? How did he get my body and how long has it been like that? Is he really planning on using that shovel to bury it?
How sad, I cried into the space around me, what a pity for my precious body, those strong legs that carried me faithfully to my classes, my hands that have created, sketched, molded and loved. Now it is broken into black and yellowish rotting chunks when yesterday it served me so well. I could feel my heart breaking as it was further torn from my physical self.
I was overcome with grief and so I followed the lonely car in the late afternoon growing darkness on winding roads through the tree-lined canyons as the rain slashed down. My body, I want my body back. Why does he have it, and where is he taking it?
I watched the tiny car creep along the road down there, turn a corner and disappear from my sight, then whispered goodbye. I knew I had no choice, so I let my attachment to my physical presence just melt away... Goodbye hair and eyes, goodbye fingers, ankles... And I wondered what would come next.
Sorry if it grosses anyone out! In case you're wondering, it's from a dream I had in college.