No! Why was he making a left turn with all that oncoming traffic?
Wham! My right arm was shattered. I could not figure out how to get out of the Westy with the side crushed. He, the driver, hopped out and ran. He had been test-driving my Vanagon Westfalia, up for sale. Now he had run after making a left and stopped. To avoid a head-on collision? A pedestrian? Now I was crushed into place. How to get the seat belt off, to figure a way out. Reset.

What? I pushed my feet down hard on the floor. It didn’t matter. It was coming, bam BAM the oncoming traffic hit hard and I could not get out of the car. My arm was fractured, I could not get the seat belt off. I looked out at the car of people that hat hit me. They looked horrified. They were getting out of their car and backing up. Then I smelled it, gasoline. Gasoline and fire. No, not on my westy. Not with me in it. Rewind, reset.

Someone bashed out the windshield. Somewhere it was happening another time. Happening again and again. Nightmares. Again and again. I woke up, again, and again, what a night of waking up. This time was final. 5:00? Fine, I was going to get up and write. In My Morning Pages. I wrote about my nightmare and the many ways that all involved someone making a left and my arm fracturing.

I do not remember dreams, normally. Today I did. Wonderful.

Then I saw an email from Kent, early? He must have had an idea early. Got up and wrote it quickly. Sorry, typed it quickly. So I read it. Yes, I was comfortable. Like any patient in a hospital totally out of it and they get to do whatever they do around me.

So I wake up and type. Type again. Type like I had promised I would on my birthday (August 30), on the first of September, on the equinox day, just the 22nd this year. My typewriters looked forlorn, Sitting and waiting for me to pull it off the chest of drawers move it to the table, and type. Or maybe one of the ones on the floor next to it, in their cases and also waiting.

I finally typed again. I hope to do it again. Maybe typing will stave off the nightmares. Hopefully.

— MichaelRpdx :: rkmm