I thought you weren’t supposed to die in your own dreams? Because I did. Last night.

As far as shooting deaths go it wasn’t all that unpleasant, but it still happened and I would like to know why.

An old friend from college, Abby, and a teacher at my school, Ms. Tomko, were involved in a chase which resulted in my death. They each had guns, and they pursued me up stairs, into coffee shops, and finally on some raft which was how I met my maker.

Under water, after having somehow taken one of their weapons, I hid in ambush hoping to shoot before I was shot at. Well, Abby shot me, dead in my tracks (or waves…it was under water after all). I lay there at the bottom of the river, talking to her about how unfair it was that I had died. And I also shot her, but then decided to undo the damage before it was permanent because I would have felt bad having killed her.

I recognize that my death wasn’t severe, because it didn’t affect my ability to navigate within my dream. But still I sat there staring at myself, bullet-holed and bloodied, not really sure why I had been pursued in the first place, wishing that I wasn’t dead.

What does this mean?