I had a dream last night that I died. It wasn’t a very sad dream, honestly, rather the opposite. I dreamed I died unexpectedly and suddenly, and was sent to an in-between spiritual realm. It wasn’t scary, strange and somewhat disorienting, but I don’t remember being frightened. I knew where I was and what was to come felt deeply welcoming to me. Not because I knew what would happen, but because I didn’t.

A spirit made of bright colors and exquisitely shiny hair gently caressed my cheek. She told me it was alright and asked if I would like to watch my life. I hesitated. “It’s helpful for some”, she said, “especially if you died young and unexpectedly. Or lived a rather extravagant, yet achy life.” “Well, I suppose I fall into all those categories,” I said, after a long pause. “Okay, why not?”

So I watched my life in a ten minute—probably less—compilation of moments, tears, laughs, hugs, screams, newness, and heartbreak. It literally flashed before my very eyes while I was still very much present. All the memories felt so fresh, raw, so wonderfully brought to life. I realized I was crying because I was both sad and so grateful. I felt such utter wholeness. “Now, all you have to do to cultivate more joy is to cartwheel to the end of the rainbow,” the spirit said. “Go and be free!” So I did.