Dying Again

So, last night's dream was a bizarre tale indeed.

I don't remember the intricate plot, but the events took place in Toronto. After all the hoopla was over, I found myself in the passenger seat of a car driven by someone who was supposed to be one of my two cousins, but probably didn't actually look like either of them.

You know how dreams are.

We were leaving Toronto and she was driving too fast and almost missed the exit ramp to get on the highway out of the city. I don't know which highway she wanted to take. It doesn't matter.

At the last second, she yanked the steering wheel and the car swerved to the left. I could tell the car was going to run over a curb/partition, and so could my cousin. I braced myself for the jolt and she tried to correct the car's trajectory but failed. Instead of turning to the right and staying in the exit lane, the car simply kept going toward the left and, when it ran out of road, dove off what suddenly appeared to be a cliff.

I stared at the water below as the car lazily flipped over and then I clapped gleefully, aware of the ironic twist in the narrative: I had just spent an endless amount of time getting out of some type of complicated trouble, only to die during my escape.

Everything went into slo-motion, and the second that I became aware that we would crash upside down into the water below (and die), I woke up.

But I so relish that liberating feeling I had of acknowledging and appreciating the irony of the situation without being concerned about my wellfare.

I think this is the second dream I've had within a month wherein I die. Well, at least I didn't have have the Covid virus, unlike in some of my other recent dreams.