[From the :Typewriter era]
I have now died in the following ways;
a) Shot in the chest by two arrows. Death from blood loss.
b) Turned to stone by cursed artifact.
c) Decapitated by the head-popping power of the Angel of Death's rifle.
d) The most recent death, and the most real:

Cantley. Front living room. Empty. Alexander points excitedly outside. There is a lightning storm and a white-purple stream of electricity smashes ouyt of the deep blue dark sky and continuously pumps into the wet road just in front of the house.
Cautiously we step away from the window and radiator. With fascination , we see a ball lightning form in the air in the same vicinity as the lightning strike (which has now faded.) It moves towards the house, a white-purple sphere a few feet in diameter. It is high in the air and disappears from our view as it passes over the roof above us.
My head starts pounding.
The air pressure has become great. It increases still.
I clutch my head with the painless but intense throbbing, which is becoming intolerable. With a crack, my skull breaks like an easter egg and I can feel the soft material of my brain bulge out. A black wash clouds my view. I am dying... I can't believe the moment is here. I try to keep conscious and stumble to get outside.
The force of nature is utterly merciless and indiscriminate. It can kill anyone, anywhere at any time. No-one will save me... my head is crushed.
A second has passed. I fear the oblivion as it tames me. Another second. Most of all fear of knowing there is no way back to my world.
Second... Death.

---

This dream completely sucked because I actually though it was happening for real.