Adventures On The Other Side

I used to have arms.

I used to have legs as well - two of them, just like everyone else. I can't say that I miss them, really, any more than I miss my eyes, or my nose, or that most amazing of appendages, my penis. But there are times I must admit to a twinge of nostalgia. There was something indescribably delicious about having arms to wrap around a pretty girl, or a nose to inhale the intoxicating aroma of a field of blossoming clover.

But I don't waste much time pining for my long-gone corporeal trappings. There's so much to do. So much to explore. So much to learn. This is all so new, this new life, this new consciousness, this new existence. It's all rather overwhelming. I'm not quite sure what to make of it all just yet, but I know one thing: something momentous is happening, and I don't want to miss a second of it.

Not that time seems to be an issue. At least not the way it used to be. In my new state, time appears to be much more elastic than I remember. Einstein once said the difference between past, present, and future is only a stubborn illusion, and I think I'm beginning to understand what he meant. Anyway, now is not the time to be pondering the great mysteries of the Universe. Something tells me these bigger issues will make themselves known to me when I'm good and ready. For now, I just need to figure out the mysteries of my own little predicament.

I was driving fast, late for work again, when the damn radio quit for some reason, just as the DJ was about to make some sort of important announcement. I looked down for a second or two, punching buttons and twisting dials, and looked back up again just in time to see a very large truck right in front of me. Horrible sounds, flashing colors, and the next thing I know I'm staring up at the sky, absurdly thinking it was a delightful shade of blue today.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breath either, but it didn't seem to matter. I felt no pain. I can't even say I felt any real discomfort. Just an overwhelming sense of wonder. When I realized that my head was no longer attached to my body, I felt no horror, no loss. Just confusion. If I had become decapitated in a car crash, why was I still conscious? How could that be? Surely I would lose consciousness any moment now, and that would be that. No more Herman. Goodbye cruel world. On to the other side. The undiscovered country.

But not quite yet, apparently. Apparently my mind refused to give up its hold on this mortal coil. Was this normal, I wondered? Did Marie Antoinette's pretty little detached head stare up out of the basket beneath the guillotine at a pastel sky - as I was doing - and wonder if that crack about cake was such a clever comment after all. Did she wait - as I was doing - for a seemingly eternal length of time, for the darkness to descend, and carry her away. Oh brutal fate! Why do you prolong the tearing away of life? How long will you make me suffer the agony of death?

Except there was no agony. That was what was so weird. I actually felt pretty good. Just odd. Out of sorts. As if I was immersed in water. Floating... yes, that must be it! I'd come full circle. I'd gone back to the womb! That's why I felt so warm, and safe, and content. Death, where is thy sting? Then again, maybe I wasn't really dying at all. Maybe I was warm and safe at home in bed, and this was all a dream. Sometimes I still think I'm in a dream. Of course, it would have to be a very long dream, I suppose, but here's the thing: it just doesn't seem to matter! It doesn't seem to matter whether this is a dream or not. In the place I now appear to reside, the question seems moot.