Although a story may be a personal one the wound it touches is often one of the collective. This my friends is one such story…
I awake from a dream…
I am climbing a broken ladder, the hook and ladder kind found on a firetruck. It swings precariously from a second story doorway as I try to reach home. Each of my hands clutch something in their fist leaving me unable to hold on for safety, a tenuous mid-air balancing act as I try to keep from falling off. Below me, rising up from the ground, is the bottom half of the ladder that has disconnected from the top. A disoriented drunk man is trying to climb up. All I know is I want to get away from him.