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(Dream) After
racing around, my friends and I drive up a narrow, a too narrow,
mountain trail, with an incredibly far drop into the gorge below,
I realize, gripping some sort of texture on the cliffside. Here
we wait; I'm number three or something. While we're waiting, I find
myself in a fancy ballroom, having taken one of the last prime seats
not far from a stage, and over to the side. Suddenly, as everyone
else tries to settle into what are left of the seats, I playfully
poke a long stick into the hand of a gigantic black woman, and having
gotten her attention, draw her over to my plush leather footstool,
essentially using my own body to hold a place for her. She understands
my offer, and as she draws closer, we begin to switch places, although
it's really impossible: She's way too big for the footstool, which
begins to collapse. Looking back to where I have been waiting on
the side of a cliff, I realize the drop-off is far less than I thought.
It's only about four feet to the floor, instead of four-tenths of
a mile to the bottom of a gorge. Then suddenly I realize my time
to speak is almost upon us, and I forgot to prepare a word of it!
I begin moving to the stage, and as I approach the center-stage
rostrum, a voice in my mind says, (just as I'm waking up,) "Two
destinations."
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