Many years in the future I’m in my 80’s or 90’s or so I’m walking on my property with a much younger woman that I don’t know at this time. I presume that she’s a grand daughter or possibly a great grand considering the age difference. I have a sharp pain in my chest, I sit down on the ground and everything goes dark.
A moment later I regain awareness in a dark room and have a brief conversation with whatever deity governs the realm where I am informed that I’m not done and will therefore be returning to continue for another lifetime.
Then I woke up and considered a while on the strange dream I had just experienced.
Yours is the kind of death dream I would like to have. It just seems so…concrete, and reaffirming of another life, that would definitely bring me some kind of comfort.
I dream about dying a lot for some reason, in various ways. But in the ones I actually do die, it’s more of a panic, with the “Oh God, I can’t believe I’m dying. There’s so many things that I want to do and so many people I need to tell that I love them…” Kind of thought and everything just sinks into blackness, where it feels like I’m in some sort of a limbo, waiting and hoping to be rescued into the afterlife but with each passing moment in the darkness my fear that there really is nothing after death grows. I’m so happy when I wake up.
I dreamt I was shot in the rain at night while walking away from a self storage place where people were milling around towards an interstate in what I was sure was Florida. The warm blood being diluted by the cold rain as the headlights blurred and I ebbed out was particulary vivid.
I think I’ll just stay away from the sunshine state, if you don’t mind.
I dream about being condemned to death a lot, but rarely of actual death. In most of my dreams all my relatives and friends say, “Sorry, but I can’t help you.” It’s quite disturbing.
On the other hand, last night I dreamed that my latest complicated relationship guy came over and said, “I don’t want to have sex today; I want us to go to Easter Mass together.” I’ve given up trying to make sense of my dreams.
I have not dreamed my actual death, but I did once dream that someone was trying to kill me to prevent me from being the next Jeopardy champion. (And once that someone was trying to kill me in a game of Mafia, but that was a lot less scary).
I once dreamt of being killed in battle. No pain or anything. Just a sudden knowledge that there were more enemies than I could shoot, one of them got me and it was all over. I remember feeling very, very sad that I was going to end like that. I didn’t actually remember the dream until a couple of days later, and on reflection realized that I hadn’t awakened immediately, but kept sleeping.
I haven’t had a dream quite like that, but it’s that sort of odd, realistic ones that I hate. It’ll really freak you out if, in 30 years or so, you’re walking along with a granddaughter…
I’ve never dreamed my own death, and only once the death of another.
I can’t imagine what had been going on, what set of circumstances caused me to have this dream. But it was incredibly detailed and vivid.
I was at our church, in the pastor’s office, sitting across the desk from him, and speaking about I don’t know what. Suddenly a guy in a black ski mask bursts in and, with some sort of large firearm(saw off shotgun?) blasts the pastor in the chest. He flies over backwards in his chair, blood going everywhere. I’m frozen in my chair, in absolute shock. The shooter turns toward me, his eyes(blue) are open very wide. Then he turns and runs out the door. He never speaks. I get out of the chair and run around the desk, but I can tell the pastor is already dead. That’s when I woke up. I was shaking and feeling really scared. And the fact that our pastor was a really great guy, and very well liked, made it all the more puzzling.
When I used to skydive, I dreamed I had a fatal malfunction. I hit the ground, it was like getting kicked by a mule, but painless. my body stopped but I didn’t, and then I watched as my parachute slowly drifted over my body. Why yes, I did make many more jumps after that, thank you very much
I’ve dreamed my own death before. No big. The worst dream I ever had, I dreamed my husband’s death. I woke up crying and clung to him like a leech for about half an hour before I could stop crying.
I’ve dreamt my own death - oddly enough I shot myself in the forehead with a phasor. After a second of intense pain everything was black but I could still hear myself thinking, and I thought “Hey great, there’s life after death after all!”.
My mum keeps dreaming about my death. They all seem to be horrifically violent ways to die, but she says most of the time I come back and help her organise my own funeral.
…which is kind of reassuring. I guess.
I was standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, looking back towards the city, and my mother shot me in the back of the head (analyse that, Dr Freud!!!). I then reappeared in ectoplasmic form in my old house in England, talking to my girlfriend and explaining that I was dead. I was just about able to move stuff around, but over the course of a couple of hours I became less tangible, and when I went to pick up a cup, my hand sort of passed through it. Then I was just a voice, and then I came round in a white waiting room, with a bureaucratic type with a clipboard dispatching other people in the waiting room to their final destination. I never found out what my destination was.
I’ve dreamed about being shot apparently-fatally a couple of times, but the one that really stuck with me is from about a year ago. I dreamed I was blown up in a car bomb explosion at the train station, and saw the last few second of my life repeat in shortening cycles, which I knew was a sign that my last few seconds of consciousness were ending. I was angry for a moment, but found peace with the thought that my girlfriend would still be out in the world. The whole thing left me very shaken, both from the positive and negative parts of the dream.
I’ve had the death dreams, both violent and benign. Either way I usually experience the initial panic of “Oh Shit, I don’t want to die!” but just before the final moment that fades into an acceptance and a sort of peace. I hope I’m that composed and serene IRL when I get there.
I have dreamed of my death, usually violent and often totally unrelated to the dream, for as long as I can remember. For example, I’m sitting at home, talking with the wife and some guy comes out of the kitchen and shoots me. Stuff like that.
The last few years, they have started to drop off in frequency.
