I'm walking around an indoor carnival or amusement park. I need to go to the bathroom, so I enter an enclosed area that's made for preschoolers. I know there's a bathroom in that area. I find out that the area will close at four o'clock, which is the current time. I keep walking toward the bathroom hoping that it won't really close. But when I get to the bathroom door, I hear the announcer call out that the area is closing. He sounds serious, so I abandon my plan because I don't want to get locked in the area while I'm inside the bathroom.
I'm outside the area, but still in the amusement park building. I'm sitting in a wheelchair and an acquaintance is pushing me around sometimes. Actually, he's being mischievous by pushing me hard down the ramps. He seems to enjoy it, and I'm not perturbed, so I don't bother to ask him to stop. I can find the brakes even though I have to feel for them on this unfamiliar device. We go through the outskirts of the water park section, and there's water on the floor in some areas.
I'm in a minivan next to a river. I'm sitting in the back right passenger seat. A wheelchair-bound boy is next to me on the left. Within the next few days I will be performing some powerful therapy on him to rid him of his handicap. He says, "I feel the walls are getting thin" while he looks out the window at the river. "Yes," I tell him. "One wall is in front of you. That's your future. The other wall is back here," I say, indicating the base of his spine. "The Energy of the Universe will flow through this wall and into you."
A girl and the mom are in front, the mom on the right, in front of me. The girl is on the left, in front of the boy. "Mom, what happens if we lose him?" she asks, referring to her brother. The mom says simply, flatly, "They pay us."
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment