I had a dream, and in my dream I possessed super powers, I could fly, not with wings, but like Superman, defying gravity. I was blessed with superhuman strength, and bulletproof skin.
In my dream I put these powers to good use, saving the damsels in distress, rescuing the unfortunate victims of accident and crime, I became a legend, the city's saviour, where there were wrongs to be righted I was there.
In my dream I looked down from the window of my seventh storey apartment, a crime was taking place directly below, the mugger was sprinting away with the purse in his hand, this was another case for SuperDan, in scant seconds the criminal would be captured, and the purse returned to the sobbing young lady.
In my dream I launched myself from the window and gave chase....
In reality I didn't succeed in catching the mugger, but I did succeed in killing the sobbing young lady who I landed on.
In reality there is now only this bed, and the occasional face that enters my limited line of vision.
I now take all of my meals through a drip, and communicate in morse code eye-blinks.
Any dreams I now have are dominated by remorseful reflections on the folly of combining hallucinogenic drugs with tall buildings.
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.