Am I 'Absolute'?

98: When we die

A short story:

I have received death. It was a few years ago, or perhaps only a few minutes. The more prolonged I am to be dead the less I remember. That may be lamentable or it may be favourable; after all, the less I recall life, the less I feel omitted.

What I do know is that I had what you call a 'normal' death- illness. I don't remember what type, but I lived enough.

Dispatching isn't painful, but that doesn't mean it was easy- I cherished life: breathing, devoting, feeling and just... being.
Once all that ceases it just isn't there. Only dreams linger, not bad ones, nor good, simply dreams. They might be surreal or wistfully realistic and there might be even other people in them sometimes. I can only watch as they play. As though off a videotape with no sound or smell, no taste or touch. They can be the selfsame whilst others are unprecedented. The dreams are always fading.

As I expect for something to eventually enlighten me about my next waiting adventures, the blurring images slowly disintegrate from my withering mind.
And occasionally that mind thinks about the people left alive who can be apart of those adventures, as dull or painful or exciting as they may be.
That mind thinks:

'It must be nice.'