Dying in sleep and finding Peace at the pond

"So I died. In my sleep. In the dream. Which is confusing because I was already asleep, but in the dream I was sleeping and then I just. Stopped. And I knew it. I knew I was dead. I was still in my bed, same room, same light coming through the blinds, but I was dead. And I sat up and looked at myself still lying there and I thought "well, that's that." I didn't panic. I got out of bed, or whatever I did, and walked to the kitchen. And everything was the same. The coffee maker. The dishes in the sink. The note on the fridge. And I stood there and I felt. Fine. Actually fine. Better than fine. This big flat calm, like the first day of vacation, like nothing was due and nothing was late and nobody was waiting on me. I went outside. The street was empty. Not eerie empty. Just quiet. Sunday morning empty. And I walked. No destination. Just walked. And I could feel the sun on my face and it didn't hurt and I wasn't tired and my knee didn't hurt, the one that always hurts, and I remember noticing that. The knee. That's what I noticed. No knee pain. I ended up at this park I've never seen. With a pond. And ducks. And I sat on a bench and watched them and I thought about my mom and how she'd be sad, and I felt bad about that, genuinely bad, but it was far away, like a bill I'd already paid. And I sat there for a long time. Long enough that the light changed. And I wasn't bored. I wasn't waiting for anything. I was just sitting at the pond being dead and it was the most peaceful I've ever felt. I woke up and I was alive. Obviously. Heart going, lungs going, knee hurting. And I lay there and I felt this weird disappointment. Not about being alive exactly. Just about leaving that bench. I got up and made coffee and my knee hurt and I stood at the window and looked at the street and for a second I missed it. The quiet. The nothing. I called my mom that day just to hear her voice. Didn't tell her why. Just talked about nothing for a while."