Suicide Dreams - It's Not What You Think

Last night, I had a dream I self-euthanized with the assistance of a medical professional. In my dream, I was in my father’s old house in Ukiah, California - only everything was white and sterile like a hospital.

There was something wrong with me. I had no idea what it was except for the generic sense that there was very little hope. Society had come out with a euthanasia pill for human beings and it had become common for people in my situation to take it.

I was just doing what was normal - what the doctors had told me to do and given me a perscription for. I had the pill and it was a big chalky horse pill looking thing that was white and flat. It kind of reminded me of the little water chestnuts in Chinese food, or a communion disk/cracker. (I'm not Catholic.)

Zy (my husband) and Francis (one of our mutual friends) were there; I'm guessing because they're the people I turn to when I'm in need of non-biased advice or support. Their presense was kind of comforting. Neither said a word though. Zy was standing in front of me looking at me while Francis was standing off to my right.

I was scared, but only the kind of scared you get before a shot. It frightens me now how I was treating it like ripping off a band aid then. I closed my eyes and thought, in my head, "do it; get it over with, just do it. Doitdoitdoitnow!" Then, like jumping out of an airplane, I took it. Once I took it, I became aware of the fact that I had just taken a pill chemically designed to cause the human body to die and the passive fear became consuming panic. I told Zy it was a mistake, I didn't want to give up on my life. So what if there was "no hope"- it seemed like ending it myself was the truly hopeless response.

I ran in the bathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror and my eyes were dilated all weird and I freaked out and tried to make myself throw up. I thought that if I could get most of it up, maybe I'd just get sick and go to the hospital and not actually die, but my throat was all dry and I couldn't make myself gag. I knelt by the toilet trying so hard to get my fingers down my throat, but my throat was closing around my fingers because there was no moisture and nothing happened. I started thinking, "oh god, oh my god this is real,” over and over with this mind shattering mentality of acknowledgement towards what was happening in what I can only describe as a traumatic response to shock. I was completely shocked that I’d actually put myself in this situation and traumatized by the fact that I was about to sit around and wait to die and I had no idea how long it would take or if it would hurt.

I woke up in a start and had no idea where I was for a second. Once I recognized my bedroom and the fact that I was in bed I realized it was a dream and there was just this amazing sensation of relief.

Zy has been sleeping on the floor for a week because his back is out and he blames our mattress. I can't afford to buy a new bed this month so we're going to try the chiropractor when I get paid instead. I crawled down there to wake him up because I needed him. He asked what was wrong and I told him what I'd drempt about. He said I was dead; this was the afterlife created by my consciousness. Then he hugged me. He can be a punk sometimes, but I love him.

I was still kind of disoriented, so I actually had to wonder for a second, but when my brain got a little less fuzzy and I sighed and told him “eh… this isn’t so bad” and went back to sleep.