There was a mini cliff overlooking a deep-ish lake that everyone swam in. I fell off and landed in the water, being pushed by the current. While I fought back, my strength was an irrelevant element against it. After hopelessly fighting for about 30 minutes, even though nobody heard me yell, and nobody cared what I was doing, I fought some more. Eventually, I got tired, so I looked death in the eye, let go of my resistance, and let my self just go with the flow. As I was floating underwater I thought what was going to happen when I died. Would I meet God? Would I die and see or feel nothing? Would I come back as a ghost? But then something grabbed me. Even with my eyes closed I was scared of what it was. Turns out my older brother saved me. I hate lakes now.