I’m in a bar. Sublime is singing, belting out songs. He is an Italian opera singer, looks like Inigo Montoya.
He is dejected. He says he has nothing left.
“I bet you have something left” I say.
I walk home, as if walking home after school in the comfort of fall. My therapist is just across the road walking in the same direction. I realize I’m bumping into her because I hung around at the bar and delayed my regular departure time.
It starts to snow; it’s a happy snow.
I start to float, laughing.
I go higher and higher. At first it was a fun thrill of levitation; now, I speed up and move through the air with speed, whisked through the air by unseen angels.
I land softly on the large branch of a tree and fall onto the street of a quiet suburb.
I have a iPad like device; I try to run a maps app; the screen flicks, revealing that it’s a Microsoft offering. I see in some vision or video a way to remote into another computer and use maps in a machine within a machine, but my dislike for the original operating system is too great and I throw out my device entirely.
A little boy across the street says hello.