Oops

I've never had a flying dream, and I've never had a falling dream. Is that strange? Dream bibles all have their motifs and archetypes that are supposed to be universal, But I just have a really hard time relating to all those symbolic rationalizations. Freud and Jung obviously never met anyone like me. That sounds terrible. By no means am I saying I'm more special than anyone else. Maybe all those Germans kept pretty incestuous circles of friendship. They all seem to have looked at the world in similar ways. Maybe it was a generational thing. Maybe the wars and the Kaiser and all that had some effect on all those men. their parents probably had incredibly similar problems to pass on to their children. With all these great, scientific minded thinkers around with the similar backgrounds on which to base their preconceptions about the human mind, I guess I'm not surprised they agreed with each other about most of this crap.

Anyway, here's the closest I've ever come to a flying or falling dream. I'm driving down a highway devoid of any signs of life other than my passengers and I. I don't remember who they are or how many there where, but I remember trying to talk to them about how the only other living things around were trees, and they were having none of it.

So we're driving in complete silence. No engine noises, no rumbling road, nothing. Hours passed like this. Everything was disturbingly boring until I noticed the trees bowing away from the car. It looked kind of like we were in a glass sphere distorting the light around us, but it felt more intentional. They were doing it on purpose.

Eventually a zebra striped moose strolls out into the middle of the highway and stops in my path a couple miles down the infinite straightness. I can see its tail (do moose have tails?) flapping behind it in the wind - my wind - like there's a shock wave traveling ahead of me. It's braced against me, so of course I floor it. I know it's going to get out of the way. How can't it know better? Approaching dizzying speeds everything gets blurry and shaky. I think I got that from Grand Theft Auto. That fucking moose won't move.

I want to teach it a lesson, but as I suddenly find myself in a frozen moment, face to face, I realize she doesn't care at all. Breaking her legs and rupturing several internal organs means nothing to this... thing. The pain it's about to feel won't matter.

And then I'm throwing tiny bits of glass out of my way. However many hundreds of miles an hour I was traveling haven't stopped yet. I'm not flying, and I'm not falling, but it feels like both. I see the ground beneath me and the city in front of me getting closer and closer, but I know it is out of reach. Finally I reach my apogee and feel gravity take it's hold. Then I wake up.