1. I'm with my parents in their home, but I can't tell where I am really. Is it Nicaragua? Elsewhere? It doesn't look familiar at all, but they are having a dinner party. I keep looking out the window. The view outside is unusual. It is as if the house were perched on top of a ridge. Really it's the edge of a large hole in the ground. It reminds me of the edge of a quarry--but more ridge-like. From my view out the window, I can see the huge cavernous hole and the opposite side of the ridge.
I hear a horrendously loud rumbling. The whole house vibrates from it. I look out the window just in time to see that a helicopter has just taken off from the ridge. I try to follow it with my eyes, but it dissappears into the night, amazingly quick. I keep looking for it, because I can still hear it and it seems impossible for it to have gone so far out of my view so quickly. I can't see it, though, so I begin scanning the opposite ridge. I see something, but it's not the helicopter. It's a man, running along the ridge. I follow him with my eyes, until he has run directly across from the house. I see him lift something long. He points it at me and shoots.
I am shocked. I duck down below the window. It isn't until this moment that it occurs to me that maybe I saw something I wasn't supposed to see, and that the man on the other side of the ridge knows I'm in this house and will come to get me.
2. I'm riding in a car with a man. He's driving. We seem to have come back home from somewhere. We are driving on LSD, heading north. He says that this is his favorite place to drive. I agree. He's speeding and it feels great. There's little or no traffic and it's that rare experience of whizzing on the drive with no worries of traffic.
We get to this curve in the road. It feels like we're by Navy Pier (though nothing really looks like Chicago). After we round the curve we start to go up a ramp or a small hill, only we get to a point and there's no more road.
We've ran over the edge. Beneath us is only air, and the cold lake waters. The car continues to move forward from momentum and in the moments that we are in the air, I have the amazing amount of time to think: I can see where the road starts up again in the distance, but it's like 4 or 5 car legnths away from us, I have a moment where I think we might make it, but then I realize we won't . Then I think, well, it's not so bad. Everything is in my line of sight. I can see where the road starts again. I can see where the water touches against the concrete of the bridge/ramp. I figure it will be easy to swim to. Finally my mind goes into problem-solving mode. We have to jump out of the car and then swim to the concrete and haul ourselves up onto land.
I say to the man, "Ok, we need to open the doors and jump. Are you ok with that?" (I was referring to the complete and total loss of his car.) He said, "I have to be, there's no choice."
Again, I never feel overly scared. More like this is inconvenient and I don't want to get wet. But I'm not really afraid of dying.
At some point, I ask "Was there a sign? Did we miss a sign that said the road was closed?" He answers, "There was, I just didn't think it would come up so fast." And again, I didn't freak. I wasn't angry or accusing.
At some point in this crazy time in the air, I notice that the car is veering off to the right. WE are no longer directly in front of the road. We are moving to the side of it, and from here I can see that there is like a concrete slab in the water that juts out at a slight incline, like an old ramp that got flooded. Again, I think, ok, this is good, easier to get to, there's something solid to reach for, it's even closer.
I had complete confidence that we would make it ok.
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