This is the first time I'm writing about a dream here on the blog without logging it in my dream journal first. This morning I dreamt that I offended some large organization (either a government or a religious authority or both) and was sentenced to be executed. Without any ceremony I was immediately led to the place of execution, an indoor spot in a large hallway or some such place, informally designated for that use (in the dream I had previously witnessed another execution in that very spot). I stood facing my executioner, only a few feet across from him, as he held a handgun at eye-level and took aim at my forehead.
Even as I stood dreading the shot I would never remember, I was also glad that the method of execution was mercifully quick and (probably) painless. In fact, if I were the arbiter of fatal justice in waking life, this could well be the method I would recommend -- quick, cheap, efficient, and with little fuss. And above all, painless (again probably), since it's over in an eyeblink.
[I really don't think the supposedly humane method of drugging a person to death is all that humane -- I mean, the person has to go through a lengthy period of preparation, full of dread and anxiety, and once he's strapped down and the needle is inserted, he lies there for some time, terrified of what's happening to him; is that really all that humane? Just because there is little physical pain, that doesn't mean it's not cruel -- mental anguish matters, too. Of course, one might justifiably object that someone who committed a crime terrible enough to land him on death row SHOULD suffer. After all, we all have had murderous thoughts about certain people... or is it just me? But I digress]
I stood there staring at the gun muzzle, wanting to close my eyes but also compelled to keep looking at it -- as much out of curiosity as a sense of bravado. A Filipina colleague once told me that when Jose Rizal, a national hero of her native country, was executed for rebelling against the Spanish colonial regime, he was stood facing away from the firing squad, but at the last moment he turned around and faced the guns, so that he died facing his killers. Perhaps I was inspired by the memory of that story. And I certainly wanted to know what, if anything, was going to happen after I was shot dead.
Unfortunately, as I stood there waiting, I began to wake. I knew the dream was about to end, and I actually became impatient, wondering what was taking the executioner so long. And that's how it did end, with a disappointingly unresolved non-outcome. I hope I have this dream again -- I really am very curious as to what I would have dreamt next.
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