My greatest fear.

I screamed very loudly and began clawing frantically in the darkness, and crying out of sheer desperation. I hate the dark, I hate the fact that nobody knew of my existence henceforth. Suddenly as I cried in the darkness, I thought about how nobody was ever going to remember me again. I would fade into nothingness. No one would remember who I was when they speak of my name. No one would know me period.

I think of my parents, and how they'd forget about me in the near future but I won't because I will be thinking about them and screaming out for them, but they cannot hear me, nor will they remember me. I think of my friends, they'd probably forget me with a snap of the fingers. I think of the things that I do not get to do ever because I am simply trapped in this little space, and I see nothing. Nothing except what my brain tells me to see.

The harder I claw the more distressed I was. I wanted to break out of this vaccuum darkness and live in the sun.
Somehow I knew I was dead and perhaps buried.

Is this what dying is like? You close your eyes and sleep, and when you regain consciousness you are already buried in some little coffin. Try as you can to hell your way out, nobody hears you, nobody will ever remember you. Instead of rotting away in your coffin, you live eternity trapped in that little coffin of yours just clawing and crying over and over.

--
This was a dream that I had when I was in primary two.
I remember this vividly because it was the first nightmare that I had, and I woke up crying for quite some time and sobbing in gibberish to my maid (or was it my grandma). Somehow, that cemented in my mind all the way till today and I'm not sure why.
Perhaps because quite some time back, I had a somewhat similar dream. I say somewhat because I can't really remember that dream in exact details, instead I remember waking up crying and asking "where will I be when I die".

I had this insane fear of death.
For quite a period after that 2nd dream where I woke up crying and wondering just where I was going to land in after I passed on, I considered adopting a religion.
My rationale was, if i started to believe strongly in something, perhaps I could develop enough faith to honestly believe in it and be eased of this fear.

Well I didn't.

I realise this was because the root cause of me having this fear was my 10 years education in a catholic school.
When I went to school, I belonged to the minority of free-thinkers. In fact, in my class, I think there were only about 2 or 3 free thinkers. My friends had even asked me what a "free-thinker" was when I was in primary school. I thought it was self-explanatory but perhaps because they grew up in the environment whereby everyone had a religion they honestly do not know what mine was.

I just didn't have none.

I thought free-thinkers were rare.
It was quite a bit of a shock when I realise quite some time after secondary school that there were many other free thinkers.

It's hard to imagine what it was like being a minority group in school. Especially since that is the environment that pretty much shaped who I am today. Think about it, the primary and secondary school years were the most formative years in a human being's development. Nobody can deny that those 10 years were the fundamentals of your education and who you are or will become depended very much on those 10 years of your life.

And I grew up feeling somewhat like an outcast, all because I did not have a religion.

It was tramautic.
The teachers tell us, that if you do not believe in God, you'd go to hell. But if you believe in God, you'd go to heaven and live eternally.
Telling that to a 6 year old is detrimental to her mental health (I mean really)
I went home persuading my parents to convert, begged them to believe in God, preached to them about the benefits of being a believer but they were insistent on remaining who they were. For a short span of time, I actually despised them. Hated them for being non catholics and hated the fact that my grandparents had those figurines and were into buddhism (or was it taoism) instead of being catholics like all my other peers. Silly as it seems, but you can't fault a 6 year old can.

I cried often because I thought my entire family was going to hell. My beloved grandparents, my stubborn parents even my brothers and sisters were all going to hell should they pass on because they did not believe in that one God that my entire school (almost) believed in.

I presume the fear of death came almost naturally.
Because I was afraid of dying and thought often about where I would really go after I die, I couldn't accept the fact that people will eventually die.
I had 2 sides of the coin.
If I believe in that non-believers-go-to-hell theory, then I'd be in hell. But if I do not believe in that crap theory, then I have to come up with my answers, which is quite tough for a 6 year old.
I went through many different phases of crazy thoughts.

Initially I tried not to think about it. But it was tough, since religion was predominant in my school, it's hard to miss. Then I started taking the scientific approach and thought perhaps all that God and your soul living in heaven for all eternity is just bullocks and that science say, when you die.. you just die.
No soul comes out of your body and floats to the heavens, not wandering spirits crashing down to hell or purgartory for that matter. No nothing period.
I thought that was a nice enough thought for awhile. After some time, that idea began to freak me out as well, and I start that same having the same panic attack until I settle on another crazy idea.
I can't remember much of those ideas. But it ranges from the afterlife theories of other religions like reincarnation to the insane ones, like after we die, we'd all go to the outerspace because the outerspace is just so vast we don't know what's out there.

If you ask me what's my take today on that "where would you go after you die" question, I'd tell you honestly I do not know.
I don't have a prepared theory or answer for myself and I haven't for quite some time. Perhaps as we all grow older, we are occupied by the more time consuming thoughts and activity like; "When can I meet someone like Rain on the airplane" or "How much is that Gucci bag at the window" or "With my current salary, when can I buy that snazzy condo?" or "Is that boy cute or cute." or "When is my manager going to give me that to-die-for increment?"... You get my point.

Fear of death, I still have.
But it's more at the back of my mind than at the front. As much as I'm glad it no longer dominate my mind, and I don't spend hours crying about it and pondering about that question as much anymore. I don't know if this is a good thing. Perhaps when I fear death, I tend to value life more. Because I am afraid of what's going to happen if I die, I try to do more than I would or could.

Then again, I don't welcome those tears or that gnawing fear.

Anyhow with this fear of death parked at the back of my head, I find taking the airplane less scary now. Whether this is a good thing or not depends on whether you are from the bank or from the travel agencies.