2.10.2006

I had a very strange dream last night and wanted to record it.

I’m lying in bed and feel this strange pressure in my lower right abdomen, just before the last curve of the large intestines, immediately above the appendix. All the preparations were going on around me, without my participation. Nobody even asked me what I thought about it. I was impressed, and honored I suppose, that they were making such a big fuss about little ol’ me.

The funeral festivities were to be down at Malaga Cove School and guests were already arriving. It was to be a gathering to match all gatherings. Rows and rows of tables covered in white table cloths and decorated with fragrant flowers covered the dark green lawn. The azure sky served to accentuate the colorful landscape. A delicious buffet was being prepared. All my friends, relatives and their friends and relatives were to be there.

I, though, was still lying in my bed day-dreaming about the fabulous event. Mixed feeling were swirling around in my head. On the one hand I was proud to be the raison de grace, but on the other hand I was tormented by my condition. The diagnosis was quite clear: cancer, dead within a day. The funeral plans, as mentioned above, had already been carried out. No turning back.

I then thought of Mary and the nutritionist doctor and figured well, maybe there is hope for me. So I jumped out of my bed and headed down the long, wide highway to the school where the funeral was taking place. On the way I met Ralf Barta who was casually heading to the festivities. He accompanied me on my mission to halt my own funeral.
The crowd was quite surprised to see me jaunting across the field, void of any coffin. Some actually were quite perturbed when I got up on the stage, grabbed the microphone and declared that this event was herewith canceled.