David’s Journal

Last night I had a dream.
I fell from the sky.
I was doing right, doing what I was supposed to do, doing what was expected of me to be a good guy.
And I fell.
There was no parachute.
I fell far.  I fell long.
And I hit the ground.
Somehow, miraculously, I survived,
b r o k e n.
My back twisted and bent in ways it should not.
My arms and legs much the same.
I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t help myself.
I could only lay there, face in the dirt,
waiting for an ambulance to come and pick me up.
I was in the middle of the desert.

-DRM

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