Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Okay, alright, sorry, I think I had a mental breakdown yesterday. Um, another mental breakdown. Maybe this is all some kind of prolonged breakdown and I’m actually sitting in a padded room somewhere.  The thing I almost asked—I’m not sure I even want to say it out loud, it’s idiotic.  [click, static] I was going to ask if you’re god. There. See? Fucking stupid.  [click, static] But, then…who are you? What are you? If I’m the one who caused all this, then how do the two of you fit into this? I just keep circling back around to… [click, static] I’m dead, aren’t I? That’s—it’s the thing that makes the most sense. Or, I don’t know if that’s true, it doesn’t explain everything, but it would explain… Well, if I’m dead, then Birdie, Fox, Leann…it’s all a twisted figment of my imagination. There is no ripple because this is just my own personal hell, some kind of ghostly afterlife where nothing makes sense and there’s no way out and nothing and no one else is real. But I can’t bear to be alone, even in death, so… People say that your life flashes before your eyes right before you die, but maybe it’s not really like that. How would we actually know anyway? I guess, near death experiences. I’ve never had one of those, not really. So maybe that is what happens when people are facing down death, they see everything like a movie reel behind their eyelids.  But what if..what if that’s not what it is. What if, instead, we see our future, our afterlife flash before our eyes? And there really isn’t an afterlife at all, but instead whatever it is we were imaging in our actual life…it flashes before our eyes but because we’re dying, the moment seems infinite. That blink of time, a life’s worth of feelings and beliefs and speculation about the universe, compacted into the last few seconds before our hearts give out.  Maybe all of this is the final burst of comprehension from a dying brain.  [click, static]