I had a dream last night. It wasn’t a regular dream, though.
I haven’t told many people this, because after I do they think I’m a lunatic. When I was five, I was bit by a cobra and went into a coma. While I was in the coma I went to a place, and I lived a whole lifetime there. I call that place Coma World. Sounds kind of like an amusement park, huh?
Sometimes I have dreams and I return to that place. And in those dreams I’m the same age I am now. And sometimes—those dreams come true. It’s symbolic, it doesn’t happen exactly how I dreamt it, but I swear the dreams are always telling me that something is going to happen. And it’s usually not something good.
Here’s the thing—I died in Coma World. That’s when I woke up. I’m not sure how old I was there when I died, but I don’t think I was much older than I am now.
I don’t know, maybe I am just crazy.