i have been chased for two nights straight--killers, teenagers, the police...

last night i dreamt that a child of about 14 was encouraging another to buy and take cocaine. i tried to talk to them, but they disappeared at some point. when i found the first in an abandoned victorian-style home, he was pretending to study. he sat on the roof, just outside a tiny attic window, with his notebook unfolded on a tiny desk. i said hello, carry on, and turned around. i knew he was hiding the second boy somewhere.

i approached a small shape covered by a heavy blanket and uncovered one end. the second boy was face-down on the floor. i could see white powder around the side of his face... his skin had a strange bluish tint. i knew he'd overdosed. i even--i'm ashamed to say--kicked him, in an effort to wake him up, but he was heavy as rock.

i felt the boy on the roof watching me as i left. i acted as if nothing had happened, but i took my cell phone out too quickly, before i was hidden by the fence. i started to run while calling the police. i tried to calculate how long it would take him to get downstairs and catch up with me. i wondered, in my terror, how he'd sat there so calmly--as if he was impervious to the death.

the dispatcher i spoke with was laughing at something.. she couldn't stop. i think it was the frustration that woke me.

...

last week there was a disaster of some sort, and everything around me was in ruins. later, i flew above the city--as always, much too fast, much too high, in a bizarre upright position. the people on either side of me were supposed to be friends, but i was afraid. deeply afraid.