IN THE DREAM, I’M running. Running along the side of the road. Running slow. Jogging. A nice, slow, steady gate, the blood pumping through my veins, heartbeat elevated, breathing nice even breaths in and out, a small sheen of sweat building on my skin, coating it like a transparent glaze.
I’m feeling good. Feeling at one with my body and the fresh air. Feeling healthy. Like the little piece of bullet lodged inside my brain doesn’t exist at all. Like I have nothing to look forward to but a long back-nine of a life without the threat of dying at any moment should that little fragment of bullet decide to make like an active fault line and shift.
Then the cars start passing by.
I’m facing traffic as I run along the roadside, so I can easily see the faces of t
