This one dream of mine changed me on the deepest level. It was a sunny day, with just my mom and I cruising down the road, me staring out the window in day-dream as usual. In the blue truck in front of us, there was a rough character who appeared distressed. As I stared on in wonder, he picked up a silver revolver and stuck it up to the roof of his mouth. He pulled the trigger; a huge popping sound; our windshield was broken; my forehead was bleeding profusely as I passed on into darkness. Peace filled every inch of my body and mind. I felt like I was going home, from this rough life, back to where I'd been before, happy and complete. All my suffering was gone, wiped away with my worries and fears. I was never quite the same since. Have any of you had a similar experience? What do you think it means, like this dream, to understand death psychologically?