With all due respect, I really don’t think that would be a fitting future for you. Frankly, I think you’d get bored to just lay there, 6-feet under and… rest. I don’t think you’d be peaceful at all. Matter of fact, you’d probably be so antsy to go do something else, you’d go bonkers.
When you pass on from this form — when you leave behind this bag of skin and bone that you now occupy — I want you to keep going.
I know, it’s a little morbid, but I’m serious. I want you to go like hell (I didn’t say ‘TO hell’, mind you). I want you to go surf across some clouds, travel to other dimensions, or shake some things up in past lives.
If there is some big dude upstairs with a baller beard and a robe, I want you to look him in the eye and ask him to pull your finger. Just to see what happens.
I want you to continue your journey, whatever that is. I want to see you a few lifetimes down the road and I want to share a beer or three with you so you can tell me all the crazy shit you got yourself into (and about the above conversation).
But please. Don’t just lay there.