I have visions of a dirt road somewhere. I don't recognize it. There are few trees but they're green. There is no grass. The ground is dry but not sandy. It isn't a desert or farmland. The road is worn but not rutted. The sky is gray. The sun weak. The road slopes gently downward. I can see a long way. Just before the horizon the dirt road meets a paved road running diagonally across it. I can't tell if the dirt road continues after the intersection. I'm afraid of this road. It goes somewhere I don't want to go.
I find myself on a bike. Not an uncommon position for me. The dirt road beckons and cautions. I release the hand brake. The bike rolls. I squeeze the brake again. The bike stops. I am in control. I can stop this if I have to. For a moment I'm tempted to look back, to see what's behind me. To see what pursues me. Pushes me. I resist. To look back would be to wake up. Dreams, unwanted or not, will tolerate no safety net. I let go brake. I roll forward. Soon speed is upon me. Too much speed.
My heart races, threatening to explode. I sit light in the saddle. My arms and legs pump up and down with the ripples in the road. I'm not afraid, I'm exhilarated. I know that if I fell I would be awake before I hit the ground. With a violent jerk and twitch I am lying in my bed, my heart pounding, betrayed by the knowledge of safety. Only in danger can we find the truth. I breath deeply several times. Three seconds inhale. Six seconds exhale. I am calm again. I am sad again. Another dream wasted. Another road lost.
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