Last night I dreamt that I died. I was on coke and heroin in the dream. It was in high school, and I was having withdrawals and didn’t want to go to school. Granny Mabel grabbed me and asked me in a very exaggerated, pronounced way if I was on drugs, like some stereotypical sitcom moment. I started crying and said “Yes, oh yes, I’ve been taking hard drugs” and she replied, “We know dear, they found you dead in your bedroom programming games while high on them.” Then I woke up. Pretty fucked up. It was so realistic and shocking. I almost feel like I really am dead, and this is some kind of afterlife.