I thought I was dead, and in truth I already made my peace with that fact. I croaked, snuffed it, kicked the bucket, bought the farm, rode the pale horse, and other such euphemisms, especially that last one. Before I woke up with hooves, I was certain that I was a goner, and I knew for a fact I had a near-death experience. It was really fuzzy – something about a staircase was all I remembered – but it definitely happened. And my body… well, let’s just say it wasn’t in pristine condition. With that in mind, the only rational options to explain my predicament were death or a coma.