I grew up on the Internet.
Sometimes I dream that I will someday meet all of the people on the internet who I wrote to, and who helped “raise” me, in a way. The Internet to me was a magical Heaven where I could be myself in writing. I had a website and a blog from age 9. I imagine, we all get together in this crowded room and people will say, “I remember Lynda when she was fourteen!” or “I know her when she was 18!” and so on. I once had this dream kind of like that. I was in this…ampitheater that had a circular room and dome ceiling. There were doors all around me, and each one represented a possibility of who I could be, who I was, a part of my soul. I could hear all of this chatter from each of the rooms. And Simon, a man who I was in the longest-term relationship…blarghh…with…words. You know what I mean. He was there. And he tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Why don’t you just choose one, and go in?” And so I did. And there was this giant tome on this wooden desk, and when I opened it to a random page, there was just one word: “Ascension.” I think this is what death and dying is like. I think all of the people we have loved in our lives, who we have known and who loved us, surround us like angels and help liberate our soul from this body. I don’t really believe in an afterlife — I’m more a fan of something like Bardo, and the possibility of reincarnation. But when people share near-death experiences, it seems that the word “love” is always at the tip of their lips, like that’s what really matters most in the end. It’s like the Vonnegut quote. And it makes me think of why Pyramid Song by Radiohead makes me tear up so much. — https://youtu.be/3M_Gg1xAHE4