It’s amazing how long that hallway is. A long hall papered with bad dreams. It takes a long time to go down it, before I am confronted with that door, waiting at the end. And how frightening to know what is on the other side of that door: is it the light we sought? The darkness, and eternal fire that we’ve been warned of? Or is it another hallway, a long and tedious walk, with those same dreams haunting me?

When I last met that door, I stood in front of it for several days. It’s like it was calling me to experience it. The few times I touched the knob, it was painfully cold. But something inside called anyway, “open it”. But I didn’t.

Certainly, what stopped me was the fear that it was another hallway, that hell doesn’t end here. Because even the darkness seemed to be a good alternative to this dream world.

Other friends have shared that hall. Sometimes, we walked down it, together, so that one of us could pull the other back, away from the door. Late nights sitting beside him, telling him “no.” “Stay.” “It’s okay.” We had a phone tree, we did shifts, we made calls, we held hands. But those were the ones who chose to ask. Those were the ones who were able to ask.

For them, this life seemed something to save, not simply to end. People always discuss whether this is an act of bravery, or of cowardice. But it is neither, because it is an inevitability. It is a force stronger than our own will. And when it is time, the intervention must come from outside, because inside there is only emptiness.

To sleep, perchance to dream. And in that sleep of death, what dreams may end? If those prayers are answered, all of those dreams will end.