Story Title: A Death I Remembered
Date Typed: 07/26/2018
Story Written By: MCtheGirL
Melissa M Carlisle*
M.C’s Stories~ Category: Fiction
Have you ever had a dream where in that dream you were walking on the side walk, “a path,” with a sure destination, but ever so slightly -merely just your toes- you stepped off of an extreamely shallow dip, “a flower bed,” with dirt –not much lower than the concrete by less than half of an inch– and you began to trip, “fall,” then suddenly into a black pit of darkness -swallowed whole- and you wake up before hitting the ground? I have.
I have had this dream so many times that I no longer cared about such things and could shake it off by the time I opened my eyes lids.
There was one time how ever, while falling in such a dream, that I continued to fall -to the
point of no longer fearing the ground- the impact never arrived.
Surrounded by darkness, still falling. Suddenly, everything became still. I was unable to feel the fear or gravitational force of falling. To turn out to be flying would have been a blessing, but the opposite force never flew. With no wind and no light; unable to feel anything physical, I remained frozen. I never did wake up.
Eventually, I could hear, “voices,” words off into the very far distance. I began able to feel warm, yet still unable to respond or see any signs of life. Yet, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. There were others, but I never got a full understanding of where they were or if I was still dreaming. The warmth with drew and the voices became silent.
No longer any physical feelings. The darkness strangely left me, yet no light brightened my view. An odd emotional feeling of exceptance and a form of peace of mind, “at rest,” fully took over me, with out any struggle. I simply just was, “here” without any physical form or outline. No stressful thoughts, quite blank minded in a basic feeling of rest. Not lost, not in pain, not hot, not cold, no sadness, no hatered, no longer did I feel excepted nor did I not feel excepted; only a feeling of fully at rest.
Eventually, the voices returned. I could reconize them. People I knew, they we’re also here, I became aware. I saw my grandmother and even my extended relatives. Problem was, I conciously knew they were all dead. How could I be hearing their voices?
A layout of the street I grew up on emerged from the absence of everything. Family welcomed me home. My grandmother told me I was early and I needed to go home. An elderly Chinese woman who I used to see in the park, was in my mother’s rocking chair. She told me that I could stay a while but then I had to go back and finish what I started. All kinds of family and friends welcomed me. We spent every kind of holiday in existence together. A whole year had past.
Then suddenly I was in the middle of an endless desert heat, with nothing surrounding me. As if the burnt, cracked ground beneth my feet, continued on for ever in every direction. A mirage in the desert heat emerged from within the blaring sunlight. My brother appeared before me, the one who took his own life leaving behind a scuiside note, “sacrifice,” claiming he died to protect the family from the devil. He confronted me as if he were real. Yelling at me to leave and claiming that I couldn’t handle the struggle. My own brother, -from with in a dream- yelled at me to leave and never go back, only forwards; I didn’t understand, I honestly thought he was back on drugs or I was simply just having a bad dream that I obviously couldn’t wake up from.
The ground shook, fire flaired threw the cracks and tangled all around my body as if vines. The sun was unbareable. The dry air and all moisture sizzled out from my body. With our skin like hanging off our bones, like a half skinded carcass -dead- fried left out for months while flesh is unable to fully decay. Sun finally set and as the flames died low, my brother begged me to run ounce fully untangled. I couldn’t move, the unbareable pain prevented me from responding. The moon roze up with no starlight. Freezing wind made my body crumble like over baked and brittle crackers. Finaly able to stand, my brother and I huddled together as the snow in the form of needles raind down upon us. Allowing out bodies to rot with moisture, it only got worse.
Upon sunrise, the water steemed away and our bodies back in to delicate flesh. As I reached for my brother’s hand, he crumbled away into nothing just before muttering the words, “live your life,” after he completely vanished, I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what.
I blinked and suddenly realized I was back in that odd place again. No physical form. Wasn’t exactly total darkness and yet there was no light. I was surrounded by nothing yet at the same time, I was not alone. Everyone was with me, with out physical forms, just all around me. I was becoming one with, “all,” everything and everyone. A great sadness overwhelmed me; I was no longer excepted. Words were spoken. Voices all over in every language by family and people I never even knew had existed. They all said, “Help those in need of helping,” along with a few other frases, “Save them. It’s not your time. Help others to yourself to help others. Know Us. Know life,” was repeatedly spoken. All were pushing me with a force I could feel too many emotions to prosses. Sundenly, in physical form, at my grandmother’s house, in the kitchen, I was offered a place at the table for another year, to be forever, but my mom stepped in threw the backyard door to the kitchen, and told me it was time to go home. I took my mother’s hand but everything suddenly changed. Their faces changed, the room was distorted. That thing in my hand was a yellow rose bud, I blinked in confusion and when opening my eyes, I was under the tree, in the front yard, of the house I grew up in. With all the roses and flower beds in bloom. The monarch butterflies that flew by our yard each year, fluttered around me.
I woke up in hell, which turned out to be reality.
Finaly waking from a drug induced coma while just coming off of full life support, I was told that I had died.
Congestive heart failure along with blood clots in my heart, that originally formed in my legs and so on.
I wasn’t fully aware but I was awake though due to the drugs they were pumping threw the IV, “pick line,” in my neck, with tubes up my nose and down my throat while still being restained by velcro straps, with a string in my nose tide to some device above me with a catheter in my –
you know what– area; I was completely not convinced that I was in a real hospital but being drugged up with morphine and sold into a sex slavery being taken across the border to Mexico, as if in those- special victim unit crime- cop tv shows.
Obviously, I was in no condition to be sure of anything.
The only, “for sure,” facts I knew was that I was tide down, told to be quiet, a thing was in my sex spot being moved around, morphine was in my system by I.V.
-I’m allergic to morphine and my usual reaction is patches of rashes all over my body, seriously surreal hallusonations, fever, manic scratching making myself bleed due to being itchy, feeling as if I’m three times my actual weight, rage; also happens to induce a migraine head ache, which in turn does a “domino effect” flairing up my chronic Fibromyalgia, arthritis, along with other problems making my asthma worse-
All I thought was I was being raped and then I recalled a conversation with my dad and my sister as a teenager…
My dad, who’s a cop, told me that the best time to scream when kidnapped or being taken, is when that person tells you not to scream. “Chances are, there’s enough people around to hear you scream and be witnesses or stop the kidnapper,” is what he basically said.
My sister how ever told me that when people scream “rape,” most people look away and don’t want to be involved. She then told me that if some screams “fire,” pretty much everyone runs to come and see. My sister told me to scream “fire” rather than “rape” even if there is no fire but because ‘rape’ is a good enough reason to lie to get Help.
So yeah, that’s exactly what I did. In the I.C.U. of the hospital, I continued to scream “fire” “help” “police” every moment I was consious. They’d put meds in the iv to make new sleep and the very moment I woke up again I continued screaming. I honestly thought that’s what was happening.
Eventually, they asked me for permission if I wanted anything for pain and I continued to say “no” but those last few times, they actually didn’t flush the IV and pump in more morphine into me. I don’t know how much longer it had been but eventually I woke up again feeling entirely foolish, looking around with my eyes “actually open” able to see enough to know I was in fact, in a hospital.
Yes, a real hospital. I couldn’t believe how rude I had been. I didn’t realize it was a urine catheter. The staff there didn’t know I was allergic to morphine or IV antibiotics. It was all just a searies of nightmares.
I knew I wasn’t in California, I did recall that I moved to Texas. I wasn’t sure why I was in a different hospital. I remembered checking in to a hospital near my house for pnamonia. I recall my family visiting and arguing but I couldn’t just go to my room as usual because they were in my “hospital” room and they could leave but I didn’t want to throw them out and yell, being seriously rude to my parents. No. Instead I did something much worse, as my heart was racing and my head pounded with my ears ringing and about to have a full on “panic attact” I made a horrible wish, but only with in my mind, not out loud.
*I’m not actually suicidal*
I had the most horrible of feelings possible which put power into my one wish, “to die, to rest, to escape,” but with out even being aware of it, only death was granted.
I can recall sitting up in the hospital bed, then just as always during a panic attack –
where I’m unable to walk away or leave the situation to calm down– I slowly fell backwards, as if I were beginning to lay down my head on the pillow, but the florescent lights must have triggered a seziure because I don’t recall my head hitting the pillow at all. Simply falling backwards.
The earliest memory I have after that is being fully at rest. Then –
with out being aware if it possibly being a dream or that I was dead– The elderly Chinese woman met with me, telling me that I should go back and that such a wish couldn’t be granted. I didn’t recall the argument with my family at the time the laidy was speaking. She told me that I have a lot of things I need to do to get where I’m going. She began telling me a story about a dream I had many times. Suddenly, I was in that dream again; that’s where this story begins.
I never did wake up. I left a part of me there.
Like the ghost of my mother, before she died.
Part of me is missing, like after my mother’s stroke.
Feelingsand caring about myself, just doesn’t seem nearly as important compared to entertaining my niece. Doing for others as best as I am able. If I don’t do anything for someone else every day, I feel wasteful.
Not to be dragged by laziness or excuses, simply the true struggling of my life physically. While in a wheelchair –
still trying to walk – it takes a while longer for me to get to the door to answer or simply carry some towels to the machine; while wet, even more so heavy, from washer to dryer.
This is my real life. I’m in pain, but I’m fine.
Some extended information….
Doctors told me that I was only officially dead for a maximum of three minutes, but that they managed to revive me some how. I asked them how, they said, “You were lucky that you were already in a hospital when it happened or you wouldn’t be alive right now.” I sort of understood but I didn’t fully understand because my question wasn’t awnsered. I was repeatedly told, “Believe me, you don’t want to know.” Felt pointless to ask sense I continuesly got that same answer from all doctors who had access to my records.
Was it all just hallucinations and dreams part of waking from the coma
while drugged? Perhaps it was all real in a different dimension of reality…
The ending was just Hallusonations with a dream state mind I’m pretty sure of that though, the beginning of rest I believe was real some how, not sure how the Chinese woman appeared or if that part was a dream… being with all those dead family members is a strange thing to recall, but it’s not like I saw anyone who I knew was alive, other than my mother but she did have a stroke a few years earlier and wasn’t exactly the same… My mom actually looked like a faded ghost compared to everyone whom I knew was dead. The part with my brother, perhaps was hell? Perhaps the table with family was a kind of heaven? Perhaps the joining of full acceptance with true rest, was the end??… or a rebirthing to a new cycle of living? Not sure of most. I can only know for a fact of what others told me but none of them supplied evidence other than the new scars all over my body and being hooks up to multiple tubes and wires.
All I know for sure is, “100% Fact” what the doctors and nurses told me, that I died and they were able to revive me.
Strange story, right? Pretty ridiculous. Unbelievable? Most likely. Is it true? Yes, Entirely.
DISCLAIMER: It’s what I personally experienced.
It’s a story that might be different in the view point of others and yet, it’s difficult enough for me to comprehend.
Keep in mind, the story above, is the Short Version with minimal details. Seriously.
I’d rather not bore you with it all.
Just read it if you want but don’t expect it to make any scene; expect the story to be a waste of your time.
Let me be~ Thanks!