I was swimming underwater, slowly sinking deeper and deeper. I could see everything around me, as if somehow sunlight were able to permeate the sea, even to the depths where I was and beyond. I had no problems breathing, even without any special apparatus to help me. It was just me and the water.
I felt serene and completely at ease. I knew I was swimming to my ultimate death, but I didn't care. It appeared to be getting brighter and brighter the deeper I got. I reasoned that I must be swimming to somewhere wonderful and that when I passed out of this world, I would be entering into another, better world. It felt good.
As I enjoyed the sensations of the warm water on my skin and the increasing brightness as I descended ever further, I had one thought that didn't quite fit into the overall mellow tone of the situation: I wondered why, as I was using the breast stroke to pull myself ever closer to my eventual but inevitable transition, I was wearing a catcher's mitt.
I woke without knowing the answer to that one.
My dreams sure are a lot more entertaining, and certainly cheaper, than going to the movies.