Last night, I dreamed a dream

Last night I had a dream that I died. Actually, it's a little more complicated than that. I knew that I was going to die. A couple of my friends were with me and, even though they were still walking around, their skin was terribly cold and clammy, like Mom's was when I touched her in her casket. They were dead but still walking around, and I knew that I was also dead. The graves were already dug outside, so we were going to go outside and lie down in our graves and be buried. So I said good-bye to my wife and hugged her. Strangely, I felt myself and I wasn't cold. My body was still warm. That seemed odd, but I knew that I really was dead. Doubtless I would start to cool in a few minutes. So I went outside and looked at my grave. I didn't want to lie down in my final bed. I would be alone and I was scared to leave. And I was still warm. I was sure that my body should be cooling by this time, but I wasn't. And then it hit me. I didn't have to be dead! There was another way. Somehow. Somewhere. I should have been dead, but I wasn't. I was still alive, and I didn't have to enter my grave. And then I woke up. My wife lay beside me, still warm and breathing, and I was still alive. So I wiped the tears from my face and curled next to her. I'm still alive.