Week 10 Theme - Distance, Framing, Alienation

Well, I have to admit, I forgot I had already done three prompts and went and did a fourth instead of my theme.  But I like how this one came out - is it okay to count it?

The prompt I chose was "44. You write a story which ends with the words, "...and then I woke up and it was only a dream." And then you wake up."

Do I want a video? they ask me.  It’ll cost an additional $200.  No thanks, I shake my head.  This is already costing me enough, I think to myself.  $200 extra is ridiculous.

We wait in the little waiting room that’s just off to the side of the entrance.  There’s a video playing with rock music in the background, showing us what’s to come.  My feet are sweating.  My feet and hands are always the first things to sweat when I’m this scared.

…

I’ve had this reoccurring dream over the years, that has always perplexed me.  In this dream I’m able to levitate off the ground, but for some strange reason not too far into the air.  About two or three feet.  And in the dream I’ve apparently always had this ability, but I’ve forgotten it.  Then suddenly I remember that I can do it, can levitate, and try.  For some reason I always need to concentrate to actually be able to do it.  I concentrate on my feet, and feel an upward-pushing sensation.  Then there I am, levitating, but needing to concentrate to stay up in the air.  In my dream I’m always amazed that I forgot that I have this ability, and I want to show others how they can do it.  Sometimes they doubt me, think I’m faking it, even when I’m floating right in front of them.

…

They’re ready for us, we’re informed.  We walk through the entrance room to a back door.  There’s a huge, spacious, gym-sized room here that I hadn’t even guessed at.  There’s another woman with me, older, celebrating her 50^th birthday.  She’s going to have the video done, she decided.  We’re shown how to suit up.  The straps are pulled tight.  I try to concentrate on the task at hand, try not to think of what’s coming in just a few minutes.

…

Another reoccurring dream I’ve had involves being able to fly, but needing to flap my arms to do so.  In the dream this is a great source of frustration, because my arms always tire out much too soon.  Sometimes I’m forced to land, to rest my arms briefly, before taking off again.  Sometimes I’m caught out high in the air, too exhausted to flap any more, and I have to fall a great height before suddenly swerving up, spreading my arms and flapping to gain altitude.  While I’m flying, the aerodynamics make perfect sense to me.  I feel confused about why I don’t do this more often, until I wake up.

…

The airplane is so small, not like in the movies where everyone gets to sit on a bench, the ceiling wide and spacious.  No, we’re all on the floor, I with my instructor strapped to me from behind, his legs around mine, and the video camera girl across from me is facing me, her legs squeezed in between mine.  On a regular day this would make me claustrophobic.  Today, it’s all I can do to not hyperventilate.  The door to the plane is all glass.  I feel dizzy as I watch us take off.  It’s like there’s nothing separating me from empty space.

…

Sometimes my dreams are so vivid, I feel completely confused upon waking, like I’m in the wrong reality.  There was one dream like this, that seemed to go on forever.  I was spying on someone (or was I escaping spies?).  Anyhow, I was in a city with huge, massive skyscrapers.  They reached so high, the cars were less than ants below.  I rose in altitude, flying alongside their surfaces, diving down at obscene angles, and then, feeling pursued, rose even higher than before.  Part of me felt scared.  Part of me felt exhilarated.

…

My instructor says I’m up first.  If I had thought of how we were all seated, it would make perfect sense, but somehow I’m still taken by complete surprise.  I’ve managed to stay relatively calm, relatively collected, but then he opens the door and the cold air comes blasting in.  In terror I claw at the safety handle on the opposite wall.  Breathing fast, I force myself to let go.  I put my feet on the airplane’s rung, scooting into place.  There’s only blue and white, and sometimes green patches peek through the white.  I stare out.  I cave to the inevitable.

…

I’ve had almost no “falling” dreams that I can recall, perhaps one or two.  There are no images, only the intense and sudden sensation of falling through blackness, which bolts me awake, leaving me sweating and gasping, electric fear pinging through my body.

…

We are spinning, then falling, and rather than feeling afraid, I worry about my nose, which I think may be bleeding.  It turns out it isn’t, but the pain is so acute, it’s all I can think of for a few seconds.  Like the sharp sting you get from swimming too deeply down into a pool.  The patchwork fields and woods lay out below me.  I feel so strange, so completely unafraid.  It looks like a quilt, like a picture, not like earth rushing up eagerly to meet me.  I hang in space, my mind blank, taking in the sensations.  I’m surprised at how unreal it all seems.