In my dream I drag you into the front car and together, we fly down the steepness, holding on to what seems solid, we are at the mercy of the forces of physics and time.


We choose to link ourselves to the rails of steel where the mindset of the operator determines our ride. We lock in, clamp down, race on the track, beg for soft landings.


We pose for the snap of the camera at the turn of curve five where the sharp change of direction snaps necks.  On cue, heads thrown back into our seats, we still give them the smile for the capture of the money shot. We look down and see our families below, dancing and nodding. At the exit we stop to pay more for the heart shaped frame.


Facing adrenaline fears is worth the price of the ticket say the sellers at the door.  All around us others are lined up in the aisles, hand in hand, no cold feet on a summer day. The ride is longer than we imagined it might be. The conversation strained in the ups and downs. The comforting hand patting my knee slides up to my inner thigh and leaves bruises.


In my dream I recognize a younger me in the frame.  I am wearing white, his ascot tie is secured with a diamond pin.  I reach for the headboard to steady myself and hang the happy grimace above the bed.

Bad dreams in waking moments are called choices. 
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web. March 28, 2016. ATL

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