I had a dream that I was on a subway reading a book. In this book, the author talks about all his past lives. In one, he was leaving the subway. He dropped something and bent over to pick it up, at which point he fell onto the subway tracks and then got run over by a train and died.

In his next life, he was crossing the street, and he dropped something, turned around to pick it up and got run over by a truck and died.

This went on. I was riveted. I found myself really identifying with this guy. “Oh man,” I said to the girl sitting next to me on the subway, “have you read this book?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I can’t believe that crap. It’s so trite. They try so hard to tug at your emotions.”

I was a little embarrassed then for liking the book (she’s cute, you see). I justified it. “See, the reason it gets to me so easily is that one time, I was on the subway and as I left, I dropped something, and then the rush of air from the departing train sucked me down onto the tracks, and then another train came and hit me and I died. That’s why, now, I hang onto everything very tight.

“Oh yeah?” she said, highly incredulous, and then went back to reading her book.

Then I was like “What the hell am I talking about? That never happened to me. Why did I tell her it did?” But I was pretty convinced, while I was saying it, that it did happen to me. I thought back in my mind. Didn’t something like that happen to me once? The best I could come up with was that I once broke my arm playing basketball (not in real life). Why did I think that happened to me? Why does this book have such resonance with me?

I was thinking about these things very hard when I got off the subway. So engrossed was I in these thoughts that I almost didn’t realize that I’d dropped my book. I bent over to pick it up, and then the rush of air from the departing subway sucked me down onto the track. Then the next train came and ran me over.

But I didn’t die.

I woke up in some kind of cave. Apparently, this Indian mystic (from India) was there. He had been living in the catacombs that were once subway tracks. He pulled me off of the tracks and saved my life with magic.

He explained that I was that guy from the book, and that I had written the book in a past life. This guy was part of a secret society that was trying to find me and prevent my death-by-subway. They lived all over the world in subway tunnels, waiting to try to save me. They thought that if they did, it would end the cycle of bad things happening, and they could turn the tide of luck for the whole world.

I hope so!

This dream brought to you by My Bike Got Stolen.