I woke up dreaming and stayed in bed for a bit--Saturday morning you know--to let it play out for a bit.

I was dreaming about the end of everything. I walked away from my job. I opened up my house and gave away everything in it. Stripped to the walls.

I gave away my car (with a full tank of gas) to a needy family in Van Nuys. Took the MTA bus back home.

I made a comfy bed of cushions and quilts on the kitchen floor and lay down, waiting for the end. Right where Jasmine died.

Now don't laugh--I kept my cell phone and my computer and my purse as the last of my possessions and put them down on the floor next to me. I sent an email to the only people I care about saying 'good-bye, the wheel turns'.

I had some water, no food. When that ran out, well, that was the end.

AND THEN, being me, I got up out of bed, dream finished, brushed my teeth, got dressed and ready for the day. The feelings generated by the dream still linger, though.

The end of what? What part of me or my life is dying? I'm not suicidal (strongly antithetical to my beliefs), so what was that all about? It was very vivid and felt authentic. A morose mood lingers....