When Aaditya passed away, we were in grade 10. Of all the emotions I had that day, the strongest was Damn, I should have told him I really liked his hair style.
I used to brush teeth with Aaditya. We were not particularly close, but I used to hang around a lot with Ay, and he was roommates with Aaditya. I was particularly worried about Ay during those weeks, but he handled it rather well--without going insane.
I had a bad dream today. I was lying on the bed, and everybody was crying. I would try to move, but my arms and legs would just not move. I would try to speak but my pharynx was jammed. And then I realized I was dead. I know, its not terribly original. But I was scared. So this is what it feels like to be dead. Why isn't dying like my parents have always told me it is: you die, and PUFF! its over. Like a bulb going off.
I tried waking up. I knew it was a dream, because far too many people were crying. Oie, you people, I am DEAD, don't cry. You're crying for yourselves, LEAVE ME BE! And I woke up.
I was sleeping in my room in Baneshwar. I tried waking up. I couldn't. My legs and arms were jammed, and I could not speak, not matter how hard I tried. I was dead.
Of course, it was a dream too, because I am not dead--yet, anyway. I tried waking again: after several levels of deep dreams, I finally did wake up, but fell asleep again to see the same f*king dream.