"I do not fear my end" said the old man on the bed, "it isn't really an end."
He cleared his throat and struggled to sit. His emaciated body seemed to fail him as a friend moved to lift him. The old man waved him away and after what seemed an eternity finally pushed himself into a seated position. His breathing became smoother, less ragged and forced. He motioned to a cup of water just out of his reach and his friend passed it carefully to him. He smiled, his friend had not left his side in three days, at least not to the old mans mind, in fairness the old man did not know how awake he had been in those three days. His dreams though, and he smiled at the thought, his dreams had been the most vivid he had experienced in a long time. It was this that gave him a feeling of peace, it was this that had made up his mind.
Looking up he scanned the loved ones and relatives and well wishers in the room. Cruelly he wondered how many of them were vultures, waiting to see who had what left to them in his will. He feigned a smile though he wondered how sinister it might look considering how badly his body had wasted away with his current, last illness.
"Dreams" he said the room silent, "dreams can feel so real at times. I have had dreams that seem to only last a minute or two and yet I have been asleep for hours. I have had other dreams that in a ten minute nap have felt like years. All those dreams, the ones I remember, felt real at the time."
"Did you not realise you were dreaming at any point?" Interrupted one of those younger vulture/relatives. The old man leveled a withering scowl in the direction of the speaker although it was probably missed be the arrogance of the lad in question.
"Yes, but then how many times have you stopped in the street and thought to yourself 'I'm too stupid to still be alive I must be asleep', eh?" replied the old man pleased to see the young lad start to blush.
He moved his head slightly to look around the room. His bedroom was large and well furnished, deep dark wood and rich fabrics. All of this was fitting a man of his wealth and status.
"I know now that this life is just one life of many lives, that my death here will put me in a body in another life and in another place. This material wealth and you, you friends and loved ones will not be there. Maybe some of you will but you won't know it. Same I suppose as I won't know it."
The faces in front of him became a mix of confusion and boredom. It was amusing he supposed. Only his friend to his right smiled understanding at what was being said. He knew what was coming.
"You see life isn't one arrow from point A to B. If it was then what creates life? Humans and animals reproduce but life, the essence of life, can't be created. It's like energy but it isn't. We can't turn fire into life as similar as they may seem to an ancient civilization. No life has to be something more complex. Maybe something so complex that we mere humans can't understand it. Nonetheless I think I have an inkling. Imagine that what makes you is tied to you. Your essence, maybe a soul maybe not, but instead of it being heaven or hell. Or true reincarnation for that matter. Maybe all forms of life or reality are dreams. Existing at the same time, concurrently, running parallel to each other."
At this the old man began to get excited and his eyes shone. His friend placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The old man looked at his friend for years and smiled before looking back at the ensemble in the room.
"When we dream we drift to another world, another life. But that life is our life. That's why we can drift into it. We are not one person, we are multiple, we are legion. Spread out among the multitude we exist in various forms, sexes and ages. In different states of wealth and poverty. Intellectual and dullard, thief and police we are infinite and still nothing. Death is just the closing of one of those dreams and the potential opening of thousands more."
He smiled, ready to deliver his final words.
"It is for this reason, as you and I and none of us will need any of this." he waved his arms around the room "not really I mean. That I have cut all of your from my will. Life is a dream, this was my dream and I don't wish to share."
There was a stunned silence in the room as the old man began to laugh. A chesty, boney laugh that sounded more like someone blowing sawdust off a work bench. The sound grew in volume, rasping through the stunned silence of the assembled family and friends in the large expensive looking bedroom that none of them would own. Some began to leave the room as their reason for visiting, to show face, was now taken from them by this powerful old man who had lost the plot at his final hurdle.
The laugh began to become strained, slowly it lessened and weakened. With his eyes still glazed and a smile on his face the old man passed on.
The solemn friend leaned in and with great care gently closed his eyes allowing the old man to continue dreaming.
