GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #399: DID I DIE?

 There are sometimes that I think I died, and I'm in the afterlife. And what a shitty afterlife that is. For example, I occasionally wonder if I died when I was in the hospital in January 2020 after I lost my job and went on the drinking binge to end all drinking binges, the one when I went in for pancreatitis and wound up getting stuck there for two weeks going through severe alcohol withdrawals. When 2020 kept getting worse and worse, I figured yeah, I'd died in the hospital. This is just some fever dream of the brain. I just have to wait for the electric impulses to end, and I'll be gone for good.

Not too long ago, I was fucked up on pills in an attempt to get some sleep. I hadn't gotten any the previous night, so I needed to make sure I zonked out in the morning. I was in the twilight between high as fuck and actual sleep, and I looked up at the ceiling. There was a golden door there, and I thought, holy shit, I really did die. Now it's time to get out of here.

After I thought about it I realized it was actually something reflected up at my ceiling from the backyard. It looked like a door, but there was no knob or anything. I giggled to myself and sleep finally took me.

It reminded me of when I was in the hospital before the worst of the DT's hit. Whenever I'm in the hospital, for whatever reason, the bed is positioned directly under a reflective light so if I want to look up and see how pathetic I appear, it's nice and easy to do that. I was a lumpen form in a hospital bed, bloated and ugly like how the scandal sheets get pictures of celebrities when they're not looking their best.

But this time I saw an Old West street with horses and tumbleweeds and gunslingers and everything. And there was a very pretty woman who beckoned to me, holding out her hand like she could pull me through the light and into her world. Intellectually, I knew it was a hallucination. But goddam, it was a good one. I wouldn't have minded then and there lifting up a hand to leave this fucking place.

Instead I called for the nurse so I could get my next morphine shot.

How's that for a fuckin' dark GF column. I'm not even in a bad mood right now. It's just something I thought about while eating lunch today. Gotta watch out for those ceiling doors into other worlds . . .