The Departed.

(A dream of 03.10.08)

Having reached cruising altitude absent of turbulence, the seat belt sign blinked off. He could see her silver wing glistening; the western sunset was blazing upon it from behind her. She was sleeping pacifically next to Him. She was a perfect specimen. (well, as near perfection as one is to find on an earth so fallen as this to a pessimist so pessimistic as He)

After a time, He decided to have a look about the craft. It was His first flight on a bird of this class. she was a big bird. Seven floors completed her, most of them were full of people. There were a handful of compartments that contained cargo and such with a large elevator connecting all the levels, if there was a stair He did not find it.

He had been lucky enough to procure seats for Them in the bulkhead of the third tier. From this vantage point they could see all the coming terrain clearly, straight ahead, through Their windshield, of sorts, like that in a car. They pierced through clouds, they were the arrow head of this bird, the pupil.

He read a bit but the text would not stay in, He tried to sleep and but that would not come to him either without the help of some drink. Finally, there was enough drink and enough time, and enough boredom; He succumbed.

His dreams were black velvet. They slipped one into another the darkness ever growing, all of them surrounded Her, themed in Her. He did not much subscribe to dreams, but maybe there are times to and times not to, then again, maybe there are not? she sailed through a rhythm of jarts…a 3 year-old had a drum. Subsequently, the seat belt sign turned on with a ding. He did not wake. Deeper and deeper He fell, there as no time to wake. Darker and deeper the dreams of Her grew.

He awoke to a very gentle shaking. “Wake up my Love, my morning sun, my mountain peak, my ever-after, wake up.” It was their custom to do this. He hated to wake, loved to sleep. Soon after She Knew Him, She began this ritual of rousing, it was always brilliant.
she slowly rolled to align with her harbor.


-

Horror came in an instant. The old girl bucked from a docile, aged mare into a stallion of purest pedigree. She was upside down and diving instantly. They watched the ground grow larger and larger. He held her tightly. They were pulling up, it seemed there was a chance that they could make it out…He knew better. He looked at her---a life passed before Him, a slide show of Knowing, there was another life lived in this moment that can be measured by no clock yet created---˙then all was black, velvety black.

-


They could see the runway ahead. The bulkhead is amazing. her captain set her down gently, he must have been older. The gate was not far away.

A rickety little ramp was drawn up to the craft, it was odd, she was so glorious, and this shoddy ramp was her birth. Across the ramp to a pier, water was on both side, then down the pier to another boat was their path. He led her on. The small ship did not last long, but had it not been there the swim would have been horrific, dodging all sorts of large maritime traffic. Once They left the swift they passed through a large door that seemed more in keeping with her, “this is a proper port.” Up a maze of escalators, through a line of officials, more hallways, and elevators follow. He led her on.

At last there was a Gate. A very normal type of Gate. It had a destination marked, and a time for departure. The time was near, growing ever nearer as time so often does.

“I have led You here. I cannot go with You. You are here now and You will be fine henceforth.” There was a look, it was a visual embrace that is all but lost in this day, He then turned and strode off.