Reading time: 6 – 9 minutes
We finally finished the final episodes of SIX FEET UNDER and I am floored. That was one of the most painful, achingly beautiful conclusions to a series, EVER. I already had heard how it ends, but that knowledge did not take anything away from the heart-wrenching ride through and beyond the end of a genius world of characters. No one could speak for over 5 minutes as we just cried and held each other’s hands. Sitting in a room with the very people who make up the most intimate of your family and then watching the conclusion of 5 years of character development within a fictitious series is such a modern milestone; a paralleling of personal development among friends.
Everything important in my life has recently been stripped from it and either profoundly removed or utterly transformed. It’s such a difficult thing to maneuver through and sustain perspective. It’s so easy to be thrown from your perch of permanence and into the reality of life’s fragility, brevity. It’s terrifying and gorgeous at once. The very things that make life so important and meaningful are the very things that feel so torturous when emphasized.
As I sat and watched every major character in one of my all-time favorite series die, I could not help but think about my own mortality and the mortality of those in my life. I sat with the truth that at least 3 of the 4 of us in that room would have to face the death of the first of us to die. Johnny, Nick, Cyprus, and I have grown so close and have come so far through this life together…. we will end it together, too.
Wow. It all ends.
The end is never a conclusion, though. I have learned that truth above so many other truths:
The “End” Is A Transformation, Never A Conclusion.
In fact, it can be quite a shocking concept to really observe the truth of that statement.
Everything is connected, continued, mutated, morphed, transformed, altered, divided, merged, embraced, pushed, etc… but never… NEVER… EVER…
DREAM FROM LAST NIGHT:
Dreamt that I lived in a world that was dominated by robots. These weren’t the “normal” kind of robots seen in sci-fi movies; these were like liberated cars from kiddie rides at a fair or amusement park. I was standing in the street in a white robe talking to someone. The streets were very Tim Burton-esque, dark, but oily-bright, too. Cartoonish. Suddenly an alarm sounded and though the streets were clearly sprinkled with people, the alarm sent everyone either running into the confines of their home or to tighten into motionless statues. Those too far from their front doors froze like statues and pressed themselves into the nearest wall. I knew what to do, even though I was completely baffled by what was happening. From all around the streets a whirring sound descended and the “robots” sped into the vicinity. The “robots” were three-wheeled cars with molded bodies of over-sized, generic cartoon characters; huge heads and eyes speeding through the streets in search of what caused the alarm. Part of me knew the history of this world: Humans were “allowed” to exist only because most of the Robots could not detect or comprehend the existence of a Human. We lived like normal, but when Robots were in the vicinity, we hid or froze until they passed. Occasionally, someone would be realized as being Human and the Robots would descend to dispose of that Human. I don’t know what that meant, but I know it was something I didn’t want to happen. I was pressed against the wall, my robe pulled tight around me as I watched the streets fill with rolling cartoons with frighteningly large grins and giant eyes. The faces were not animated, so these static, happy faces were terrifying to watch. I remember seeing a number of robots speeding by and being glad they were farther away, but as I turned my head back to look forward, a giant cartoon car was wheeling slowly right up to me from behind the corner where I was pressed. It stopped. I held my breath. I remember that I curled my bare toes and pulled myself as far into the wall as I could. The cartoon turned its head toward me and its face carried a deep, destructive, hunting sense behind its happy, molded, grinning teeth. Its body bent toward the bottom of my robe and I could HEAR it sniffing! It was smelling for something! I remember thinking that I did not know they had any senses beyond movement and limited visuals, but this one was trying to smell if something was present! Then from the molded car of its body, from what had looked like a permanently folded set of arms, one of them reached from itself and slowly held a finger out to touch at me. I was breathing as little as possible and had no idea what I would do if it touched me! Then, a whistling call from another Robot set my robot into a whir, speedily rolling away without a second glance. I sighed heavily and began to quickly slide myself along the wall to the entrance of what I believe was my home. Then, from the distance I saw a blonde woman point at me! The Robots nearest to her swerved and pointed themselves directly toward me. I then realized that some Humans had found security in being the eyes, ears, and hunters for these Robots. She started running toward me. I ran into the apartment, which had a river behind it, apparently, and I knew exactly what to do. I threw myself out the back door and into the water, holding on to something as far below the water as possible while holding my breath. I could see up from the water and through the slatted steps that lead to a docking of some sort, I guess. I saw the blonde woman lean out from the doorway on her belly and point at me through the water. I just remained there. I was letting bubbles out through my nose as little as possible, but I was having trouble and the bubbles kept getting steadier. I could see that the woman was trying to convince the Robots that I was there, but they didn’t seem to be responding to her pleas. I held my breath longer than humanly possible. The threat passed and I was able to come up out of the water and climb back into my home. The blonde woman was sitting there, waiting. She leapt at me with a violent force, angry that she had failed to please these Robots, I assume. I fought her and this is when I realized I was “not me;” I was a young, Black woman. I fought the blonde, hateful woman until I killed her. I remember not wanting to kill her, but she was trying to kill me and I bashed her head until she died. I remember thinking how horrible it was to kill her, but how many people I was saving by actually doing so. I had no choice.
I woke up.