Dying in your sleep is probably the best way to go, enveloped in warmth and, after a while, you just feel like you're swimming. If you have the choice, you should go that way- that's what I did. Or, at least, that's what they tell me I did. I was never specifically asked which way I wanted to die, but I had always hoped it would be something like this- quick, painless, and dreamlike.
Dying is a funny thing- you almost feel like you're just asleep. You don't think, while you're falling asleep, that sometime in the next few moments, your body is finally going to give up, and you're no longer going to be suffering from personhood. Your life doesn't flash before your eyes in those few seconds you fall into the abyss, and you don't think of every regret you've had up until this point. Everything is the same as if you were really dreaming, statistical improbabilities, the fuzziness of the dream like state, the serenity of the hours of peace, and last but not least, random objects that talked to you like never before. Who would have thought the moon had a voice? Such a calm, soothing voice, leaking into your body and making you feel better than you've ever felt before.
He called himself The Man in the Moon, and his voice echoed through my head, though I never actually heard it with my ears. But just looking was enough, just looking told me all I needed to know for the moment- who he was, what was happening, and why. His words didn't seem real, it felt like a dream induced by a new medication, or just my mind taking me into another world while trying to escape the pain. Minds become a funny thing when subjected to levels of pain they're not accurately equipped to deal with, so that seemed like the most probable of all of the above. After all, how could something so strange be happening, and how could a meteor that orbits the earth be speaking to me? How could he know so much about me, things not even my dreams knew anymore?
You have a purpose, he said, after a moment's silence to let my mind digest the information it was being fed, to wrap my head around the fact I might actually be dead, but it didn't seem to sink it quite yet.
A purpose? Yes, I had a purpose. It was to wake up tomorrow morning and spend the day with my family, to tell them I loved them and never let go when they hug me. Not for an hour, not for a day, and certainly not for a lifetime.
But you must find your purpose. You must find what you have been put here for.
I could only stare at the moon as his words swirled around my head, waiting for him to continue. He never did, however, and like all my dreams, it soon came to an end, thrusting me back into my body with more questions than answers.