I had a dream that I was dying. I don’t know why I was dying, but I was. I was lying on a mattress on the floor and I started to see statistics of my life (as if life was a video game). People standing around me were talking about people long dead and keeping “old country death traditions” in the way they told me goodbye (involving lots of prayers, speeches, and tiny pillows). The whole time, I thought of my grandmother, who passed in March (actually died, not just in the dream). When my dog approached me and I began petting her, I woke up.