The fear heightened my sense of meaning. It lied concurrent with something that could be shittily described as certain uncertainty. The afterlife was a limited space that I could not exit. The walls were basically file cabinet archives of past memories that I could access and re-experience. It was as if a fully grown adult was in a self built baby-crib prison created with legos of his own history. I did not want to be dead, with no ability to create new experiences, so I got scared.
I slammed my elbow into the wall next to me in an attempt to ground myself in reality. I turned the handle of the faucet and put a hastily grabbed ceramic coffee mug under it. I drank water scared and watched the sun rise. I spotted some joggers, which combined with the awareness/positive feelings I associated with sunlight and the absence of darkness, I took as an indicator that it was appropriate to sleep with no watchman.
I slammed my elbow into the wall next to me in an attempt to ground myself in reality. I turned the handle of the faucet and put a hastily grabbed ceramic coffee mug under it. I drank water scared and watched the sun rise. I spotted some joggers, which combined with the awareness/positive feelings I associated with sunlight and the absence of darkness, I took as an indicator that it was appropriate to sleep with no watchman.
