"Dear Roberta Sparrow,
……….....I hope that when the world comes to an end I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to."
I had the dream again. It's been so many years (gawd like 20?) since it came I had forgotten all about it, seared it's visual portent away behind layers of glass and smoke. Burned from so many cells as to escape recall and momentum of presence.
The clouds move away and I am flying and free, so far from everything so much like an arrow, a glider, a spring loaded grifter arcing through the sky.
I must be clearing the horizons terminator as my eyesight seems to dim and grow colder, it seems as if I am slowing while my limbs become heavier and heavier. The stars seem to evaporate in mist and as I turn my head realize that there is incredible weight bearing down, that I can see now the closing ring of light so far above me what must be the surface of the water I am now sinking more deeply than I have ever been. The last pinhole of sunlight reaches to me from far above and as it closes in diameter the world becomes still and dark and I can choose to stay this way or lose my shape and merge with the heavy still blankness. I feel the soft crush of millions of gallons squeeze every drop of oxygen from my body as I pass into oblivion and then wakefulness.
I am never left with that breathless post-nightmare feeling, it's more a slow burn; like I just got over a knock in the head.
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