I think I’ve been shot — maybe not

One night recently, I had a near-death experience. Perhaps it was an after-death experience. I really can’t remember except that I dreamed it … and when I woke up, it was SO real.

The dream took a turn toward reality when I felt the cool waters of Lake Michigan splash lightly on my body while I was lying on the warm, light-brown sands of the beach at Holland State Park. I know it was Holland State Park because I recognized the lighthouse there that is affectionately known as “Big Red.”

How did I die? Well, when I woke up, I think I had been shot. I don’t know who was hunting me, if anyone. I don’t know why anyone would want to shoot me. Sure, I’ve written some stories for the newspaper that have not pleased everyone, but since I’m a sportswriter and most of my stories deal with scores and statistics, how could I piss anyone off.

I don’t remember the details of the shooting, yet it was so very real.

As I was lying on the beach feeling the water wash gently over me, I could see the blood from my wound drifting back out with each wave as it regressed.

And I began sinking into the sand. Then I woke up.

It took me a second to get accustomed to the darkness, but a quick glance at the digital alarm clock assured me that, yes, I was alive.

I’m still not sure I did not get shot or zapped by something. As I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, I had a sudden itching sensation on my left side, in front, just below by chest. That was accompanied by a similar sensation on the back left in about the same location.

The feeling of a bullet going through and through as they describe on many of the television shows featuring cops and crime-solvers?

Perhaps, but that still won’t keep me from watching the next episode of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

I don’t want to die.

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