Friday morning dream

The blue skies in front of me were misleading. Calm and quiet. It seemed like a normal day. A cold gust of wind runs through my hair like fingers, leaving me to peer over my shoulder to get a glimpse of a black sky--black as night. The trees were in the distant shaking like a scared dog. All of the autumn leaves whirl around, a delicate dance--leaving the trees bare and skeletal. Everything I had was disappearing behind me, swallowed by the black sky.

Ahead of me was a rotten wood shed. Sunshine yellow paint flakes would peel off if you brushed up against it. Each step I took towards the frail shed for safety was like dragging a hundred extra pounds. The wind behind me, not like soft fingers anymore--but like rough hands pulling me back. A grain of sand would hit my cheeks, feeling like needles.

I wasn't going to make it into this shed. If perhaps I did, every fiber of the rotting shed would get sucked up into the sky and I'd be along for the ride.