66

Towering above me, seemingly reaching the lower layers of atmosphere, loomed the giant concrete speedway, not unlike the top tier of a major highway overpass. And yet, the sharpness of it's angel upon descent was such that it was altogether unearthly and seemed dangerous, even to think of it. The skies all around were swathed in shades of grey, with massive brushstrokes of orange grapefruit, which filtered through the light to cast a post-apocalyptic glow on harsh lines of naked, raw industrial forms. Despite the air of calamity, the crowd, myself among them, shivered with thrill as the racers pounded down the colossal ramp, knees held together with fierce concentration, backs arched, and elbows tucked for maximum speed. It was magnificent, and not a little fun, to watch them, for from where I stood, my vision was obscured by the lip of the racetrack, just as it turned sharply in the course. Because of this, it looked as if each racer simply dropped away into nothingness at breakneck speed, one after another. Adrenaline galloped through my blood as the pack neared the turn once more and I anticipated their quick disappearance. There was once figure in particular that I sought out among the racers. I was invested in him, as an old friend, and my excitement mounted as I caught sight of him and shared a sliver of his exhilaration. The front of the pack sped past the curve and out of my sight, and now, the middle was nearly gone as well. But what was this! My friend, my racer, he made no turn, and instead headed straight toward me with the intensity of a bullet. In a fraction of a moment, he covered the distance between the larger-than-life track and myself, somehow unaffected by the severe curve of the track which he must have had to traverse in order to fly in so straight a line toward me. His concentration was unbroken and his face showed no sign of comprehension of the dire situation he suddenly found himself in. Indeed, no cry escaped his lips, no wrinkle obstructed his brow as he plummeted - how, I shall never understand - through every metaphysical barrier and landed as a sack of splintered bone and seeping blood on the pavement, possibly 30 feet below. The distance of the fall was unclear to me, only the far away realization that I was running, running, running toward him, skirting great walls of concrete to get to the place where he was. I was first to arrive, followed shortly by a doctor. I cradled him in my arms as his weak breath became silence, and somehow, his form took shape as a stubby doll rather than a human. I too, felt small and hideous, like the stuffed dolls that appear to be full grown, but bare monstrous grins that appeal to no age whatsoever. But I return to the tragedy at hand. The doctor interceded as gently as he could, but soon crouched to the side, seeing there was nothing he could do. There were two figures to my left, trying to console me, but their words seemed meaningless - indeed, they were nothing more than soundbites on airwaves to me, though I could see their concern for me in their drawn faces and gently imploring brows. The events are not very clear to me, all the more for their lack of sense, but I recall screaming and wailing in such a way that is uncharacteristic of my grief. With true and extreme volume, and no regard to the content of my words or whether they may embarrass others or myself among others. I remember such ideas and phrases that expressed my wish that his soul not depart, but stay with me and not leave me. Over and over I repeated my pleas, even as he was unable to speak and appeared obviously to lose his life. What rings in my memory most clearly is my own voice, screaming with all my strength, "This is heaven! This is heaven!" There is no more to my tale; here it ends. Only that I had a vague sensation, yes, a sensation, of the number 66. I can make no meaning of this thought. Perhaps you, reader, may derive your own conclusions....


Such was my dream in the early morning of December the 9th, 2011. From which I awoke in a fever and realized only later how disturbing the details.