I have no idea what my subsconscious is trying to tell me here

I dreamed that I was dying. It wasn't painful, and it wasn't scary. It was awkward and embarrassing because I was terribly slow about it, and I felt bad because all my friends and family were there and they had lives to get back to and grieving to get on with and funeral arrangements to make, and I was holding them up by not actually getting on with it and expiring.

And finally after a few days of lingering on in a semi-comatose state, I sat up and said, "Fuck it, I'm just going to live." And my mom went out and got sandwiches. I had ham and havarti on rosemary-potato bread.