I see myself standing in someone’s luxury apartment, high above the city.
Strangers are sipping drinks when the room begins to lean.
Rocking, still enough to measure, I think, “At this height, it’s normal for buildings to budge…even sway inches….even feet”.
The guests all chuckle nervously, balance their martinis, steady themselves against a sofa-back, fingertips along a window pane.
Inches, even feet, we reason, as the floor tilts slowly east then west.
I wait, unbreathing – watch the shadows tweak like dials. The walls heave and creak in suspense, I slam against one!
Objects tumble, then whip into reverse, trees rear up into view.
The break is soundless…or deafening. Big light, the sky, the old falling fear. Furniture spins out into the swallowing treetops.
But I get tossed a mile away, and pasted to a bright patch of lawn. The view of debris spilling from a clear and windless height rains down around me.
Enough time to think, “A falling dream where I hit the ground and didn’t die”