Over And Out June 21, 2016Posted by nrhatch in Health & Wellness, Humor, Magick & Mystery, Spirit & Ego.
Note to self: Do NOT get in cars with old people.
I dreamt an elderly neighbor was driving me to the store. Instead of stopping and parking, her foot stayed on the gas as the car crawled to the far edge of the parking lot.
Moving at slightly less than a snail’s pace.
Marilyn bumped into the bumper at a sensible 1-2 mph. So slow that instead of bouncing back, the tires rose to the challenge and started climbing up and over the bumper.
Dreams being what they are, the scene transformed from a flat as a pancake parking lot in Florida to a parking lot abutting the top of a steep ravine.
As the car kept climbing, I gauged that the gaping gorge was at least as deep as the Grand Canyon.
“STOP! Marilyn, STOP.”
The car went up and over the tire guard and landed on the other side.
Only one problem: There wasn’t any land there to land on.
The car slipped toward the precipice.
Climbing out was no longer an option since the car was suspended in air, teetering on the abyss with nothing to climb out on to.
I turned to get Marilyn’s reaction to our precarious situation and noticed she was already gone . . . with the dead weight of her right foot pressing on the accelerator instead of the brake.
The car continued to move forward and I felt the back tires begin their ascent over the bumper guard.
Realizing we were toast, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed.
“911 Operator. What’s your emergency?”
“Our car is careening off the cliff behind the CVS.”
I heard her parroting into the radio: “Dispatch ~ rescue vehicles needed at the top of the cliff behind the CVS. Over.”
In real life, there is no cliff behind the CVS. Just beach. But reality never deters our dreams, does it?
She returned to the line with me: “Ma’am. Rescue vehicles are on the way. Hang on.”
“I would if I could. But there’s nothing to hang on to. Nothing to do at this point but relax and enjoy the ride down. By the time help arrives, we’ll be at the bottom of the cliff, not the top. Tell my husband . . .”
As soon as I realized I could do nothing to change the “what is,” calm acceptance flooded my being.
Instead of being scared, I was curious.
Watching to see what would happen to “me” once my body ceased to be.
* * *
Of course, I didn’t even get a glimpse of what waits for us beyond the veil since I woke up mid-flight.
As the car raced head over heels to the bottom of the ravine, I surfaced from sleep and found myself safe and sound in bed.
Instead of being happy to be alive, I felt cheated.
I wanted a sneak peek!
Aah . . . that’s better!