用了差不多两星期的时间，慢吞吞地和H先生看完了Midnight Mass，中文翻译叫《午夜弥赛》，也是netflix上的剧，推荐给我们的时候分类在“恐怖”。

我俩以为是什么鬼故事，就看了。

并不是鬼故事，看到中途我们才意识到这是一个节奏非常缓慢的宗教恐怖故事。

我向来对他们的宗教故事没有链接感，get不到他们那种深入到生活细节里的惯性影响——只能拿自己文化里的民俗做一丢丢类比，也不准确。

这是一部只有7集的限定剧集，每一集都一个多小时左右，很多场景看起来都像舞台剧，角色们坐在一个封闭空间里面对面交谈，画面切半身或者脸部特写，大段大段充满诗意的长对白。

非常挑观众，你首先得有耐心。

我边看边和H先生讨论宗教的事。他说他爷爷年轻的时候就是教堂里唱诗班的，后来有了两个儿子（他大伯和他爸），就带着两个儿子每周去教堂礼拜。几十年下来，H先生的大伯被培养得十分虔诚，但明明是一起带在身边的，他爸却完全不吃那一套。到如今，依然去教堂做礼拜、还带着全家子女去的，还是大伯，而他爸这一家子几乎没进过教堂。

所以H先生是一个完全不信教的人。

但他对宗教故事很感兴趣，经常会对它们做一些“大逆不道”的拆解。就这一点我俩很聊得来，我也喜欢分析宗教传说的来源，很喜欢想象，时间退回到过去，当时的普通人到底发生了什么为了什么以什么样的状态编纂出了各种“信仰”的起源。

说回Midnight Mass，我俩看到倒数第二集的时候，H先生突然问我，你有没有想过自己死的时候会发生什么？如果有一个可能，给你一个对宇宙全知全能的瞬间，代价是付出人生最后一段漫长的生命，你会做这个交换吗？你会用死亡去换这个真相吗——关于自我、生命和宇宙的一切？

特别可怕的事情发生了：

我俩还没对这讨论出所以然，屏幕上演到Midnight Mass最后一集的最后十五分钟——毫无征兆地、女主角居然、委婉又缓慢地、开始回答起了我们正在讨论的问题。

那是女主角临死前回忆到自己和喜欢的人曾经讲过的话。

我不知道身边的H先生怎么想，反正我一边听一边起鸡皮疙瘩——不仅是因为这个回答突然出现在屏幕上的巧合本身，还因为这段台词被设计出的超凡的美与哲学。

我刚才专门去重看了一遍结尾，把这段绝美的台词摘录出来了。

这就是对H先生之前提出的那个问题的最美妙的回答，我太喜欢了，也分享给你们。

’So what do you think happens when we die, Erin?‘

’Speaking for myself?‘

’Speaking for yourself.‘

Myself. My Self. That's the problem. That's the whole problem with the whole thing.

That word, "self."That's not the word. That's not right. That isn't...That isn't.

How did I forget that? When did I forget that?

The body stops a cell at a time, but the brain keeps firing those neurons. Little lightning bolts, like fireworks inside, and I thought I'd despair or feel afraid, but I don't feel any of that. None of it. Because I'm too busy.

I'm too busy in this moment. Remembering.

Of course. I remember that every atom in my body was forged in a star. This matter, this body is mostly just empty space after all, and solid matter? It's just energy vibrating very slowly and there is no me.

There never was.

The electrons of my body mingle and dance with the electrons of the ground below me and the air I'm no longer breathing. And I remember there is no point where any of that ends and I begin.

I remember I am energy. Not memory. Not self.

My name, my personality, my choices, all came after me.

I was before them and I will be after. And everything else is pictures, picked up along the way. Fleeting little dreamlets printed on the tissue of my dying brain. and I am the lightning that jumps between. I am the energy firing the neurons, and I'm returning.

Just by remembering, I'm returning home.

And it's like a drop of water falling back into the ocean, of which it's always been a part. All things... a part. All of us.. a part.

You, me and my little girl, and my mother and my father, everyone who's ever been, every plant, every animal, every atom, every star, every galaxy, all of it.

More galaxies in the universe than grains of sand on the beach. And that's what we're talking about when we say "God."

The one.

The cosmos and its infinite dreams.

We are the cosmos dreaming of itself.

It's simply a dream that I think is my life, every time.

But I'll forget this. I always do.

I always forget my dreams.

But now, in this split-second, in the moment I remember, the instant I remember, I comprehend everything at once.

There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It's a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity.

And I am all of it.

I am everything.

I am all.

I am that I am.