I was wrenched from sleep by a dream of my wife and daughters sobbing and holding each other while I hovered oddly over their heads, unable to communicate with them. I screamed and waved, but they had no idea I was there. I was somehow made to understand that I’d died and couldn’t comfort them because I’d already crossed over; they were forever beyond my reach. Not only that, but I’d died because I hadn’t taken my life seriously. “You could have been doing anything—even playing chess—but instead you chose to die,” was how a voice explained it to me. I’d been careless, and now it was too late.
