A few nights ago I dreamt I was strapped into a seat on a rollercoaster; it was zooming around so quickly that the world spun in dizzy circles, and all I caught were glimpses of the pale blue sky and the clouds and the red tarmac below. It happened too fast for my mind to register, but all I knew was that my seat dislodged suddenly and the impact flung me high up into the air like a helpless rag doll, twisting and turning in mid-air, limbs flailing, hands grasping desperately at thin air, trying in vain to clutch on to something, anything, but there was only a vast nothingness. I found myself falling falling falling and for one dreadful moment I knew I was going to end up dead or at least horribly injured and I was completely terrified. You stood there, impassively looking up at me. Our eyes met in that fleeting second and I tried to cry out your name but I couldn’t make my mouth form the words in time.

Then I jerked awake, and for quite some time, I lay there trembling in the darkness. The dream had felt all too real, it was so unnervingly vivid. Until now I still can’t quite make out what it meant.

Sometime during the day this quote by Carol Plum-Ucci came to me,

“Complete happiness can look so much like complete terror that it’s hard to tell them apart.”