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Dreamed 1998/11/8 by Chris Wayan

Surreal crayon drawing on black paper of a yellow winged being leaping off a sea-cliff as onlookers point in alarm.

I'm furious at my sister Althea for something she did--never mind what. But what she did is irreversible. My rage won't undo it now, so I keep nagging myself, saying "I should let go." But all day, I feel just as mad; I have to suppress urges to lash out at random.

At dusk, I finally do something to discharge it. A friend lends me a weird flimsy hang-glider shaped like a horseshoe crab. I launch myself from a cliff out over the sea. Crab-gliders are tricky to turn around, and I go quite a way out before even trying. Other fliers are alarmed, yell warnings that I'm being reckless. Other gliders, ultralights and balloons fill the sky, wheeling above small boats and hydrofoils. Too disorganized for a regatta, but there are a hundred people within a mile--even if I do fall in, I'd be rescued quickly enough.

I realize suddenly that if I hadn't jumped off the cliff, I really would have done something violent--I'm that angry. This was the safest response, given the provocation. If I'd really acted out my feelings, I'd be in jail--or dead.

Should be proud of my good sense, for merely flying a bit wildly, instead.


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