When I was about five, I remember not being able to fall asleep one night. Something was bothering me. For the first time, my five year old mind was grasping the concept of finality, the end of life, death. I still remember the inner feeling I had that night. At first it started off as a mild anxiety, kind of when you lose a job, and the economy is in a bad shape, and there is this fear of the unknown and all the problems lurking if a job doesn’t  come up soon.  Except, my fears were more ‘serious and real’, and multiplying, and kept growing every minute. Soon, I was in agony. Questions kept arising -‘ How will it feel when I’m dying?  How will they know that I’m dead? What if I look dead to everyone but I’m still alive?’ Then the inner voice would provide the answer –‘Relax, you are only five! There is plenty to go. Humans live a hundred years.’ But then another less assuring thought would pop up – ‘Even after 1000 years the day will come.’ My mum was asleep, and I was afraid to wake her up. She would get pissed if I woke her up. She had to go to work early. ‘She probably wouldn’t understand’- I thought. I could not sleep. I don’t remember That was my worst fear/agony I have experienced while growing up. In fact after this night, I know I changed. I don’t think I smiled for weeks. I remember being so worried. I remember going on the weekend with mum to visit grandma on her farm, on the outskirts of a small town. She had a cow, chickens and cats. I remember looking at the cow, about 100 meters from the house, carelessly grazing in the field, swinging the tail, probably swatting at flies. Then I’d go alone to see the kittens, a few weeks old. They looked careless even more. I remember my tears welling up, watching those kittens playing in a cardboard box. I was worried that someone would see me cry. In those days, I was afraid of being seen crying. I don’t know why, maybe I was worried that I would be punished, but I don’t remember. I had this rule to make sure it stayed secret. I could not handle it, I was about to cry. I remember putting my head in the shallow box with the kittens, and my tears started flowing. Confused kittens were moving around in the box, while their tiny warm fluffy bodies were wiping my tears. I felt better after this cry with the kittens, but milder emotions about my own end  followed me for quite some time. I know that a lot of us go through very similar stages when growing up. The fact is that I could not grasp the end of consciousness. It was not a simple fear of death. It was a combination of fear that consciousnesses can not die, but also fear of process of dying, or basically facing death. I’m wondering if anyone had a similar experience? If so, how long did it last? What did you do?