What does National Geographic Know Anyway.
A short story by N.P. Murray
I dreamt I was falling.
Not the usual dream of falling.
I wasn’t plummeting, thousands of feet a second, through the air that would neither hold me nor help me. In that dream you can see the ground miles below you. It is very much there and very much an impending solid. You’re waiting for it to meet you with the sound of raw meat smacking a tabletop. Or you would be if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with the whole falling thing.
In this dream I was falling through the ocean. Quite slowly. My feet were strangely heavy and it was them that pulled me down. My arms trailed above me like the streamers on a kite. A kite underwater. As I fell, fish of all kinds would swim past me and around me, satisfying their curiosity. Fish, I knew as it was a dream, were naturally curious and couldn’t help but investigate my unexpected presence in their grand home.
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