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Tuesday, September 6th, 2044

In a dream I saw my own obituary in the newspaper and my first thought was: I should check the date! It was September 6th, 2044 — that would mean I’d be dead at the age of 86.5 years, statistically more or less exactly the average life expectancy for a white male in the west. You’d think the unconscious could come up with something more interesting, but I ought to be pleased that the date was not next month. That would have made for a tense few weeks!

I wish I’d had a look at what it said in the obituary. I must have done something interesting enough in the next ten thousand days to warrant one. What could it be?

When I had the dream, the date of my death was more than ten thousand days away. Now it’s 9,293 — that seems significantly less. A lot has happened but nothing that would warrant an obituary.

I am amused by the idea that under normal circumstances the years during which someone lived is not seen in brackets next to or under a person’s name until after they’re dead — and thought it might be useful or interesting (and indeed somewhat amusing) to have the years next to my name on my website as a kind of memento mori.

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