You attained nirvana, heaven, Valhalla, but you prepared for … well, I don’t remember hearing much about those. The preparers were more right than the attainers, but still missed the point.
Life was meant to prepare you for an infinite afterlife of sleep.
Insomniacs were people who had lived life without the appreciation of sleep necessary to enjoy the afterlife adequately. I was an insomniac who then learned a wrong lesson. I loved sleep, but only managed to get sleep by balancing sleep deprivation so that I was always on the edge of sleeping.
Then came my final death. The cop missed and tased me instead of the protester. The universe didn’t make me try again, though. I had learned enough. I had learned to love sleep, even if it was a desperate clinging love.
I’m not telling you this story, I’m dreaming it to you on a twilight beach with glistening sand and gulls calling. We were laughing over glasses of wine and breathing in the salt air. But now I feel the need to fly. I soar through the air, wind on my face, eyes closed in a deepening starry night.