Can you believe it?

If your life flashes before your eyes as you die, what does that say about the afterlife?

Do you forget everything once you get over there?

If your life flashes before your eyes and that's the last time that can ever happen, could that mean that the memories are simply streaming from your body, like tears and blood dripping and swirling into a river of nostalgia and past lives?

What if a memory stays with you when you go to the afterlife, like a stubborn insect unable to be shaken from the bottom of a shoe? Would that mean that heaven, hell, the next life, your rebirth, was false, since it wouldn't be a completely fresh slate? Is it possible for your repressed memories to clog up your nacent mind? A gurgling confusion that roils with doubt? Naive questions about life, love, and pursuit, all leading to pointlessness and an overused drainage system?

As my eyes protest any more use and their shields simmer to a close, I consider the necessity of grief and sanity. If peanuts had more protein, we could just eat them instead of cows.