Dream of Vacation Skydiving

dream as poem

five skydivers in a blue sky

I’m with a group of people—
family members, maybe, and
maybe on vacation somewhere—
and we’re all getting ready
to go skydiving.

We’re gathering on a lawn
with our instructor,
going over the process.

Someone standing next to me
(who is like my niece 
but isn’t my niece—or is
perhaps my niece in a parallel reality
alternate universe kind of way)
asks if I’m scared.

Not really, I say.

And then I picture in my mind
how it will be jumping out
of the plane—confirming to myself
that indeed I’m really not scared,
that I can handle it just fine.

The scene changes
to on board the plane.
Everyone starts putting on 
their parachute packs.

As I put mine on, I notice that
(a) the straps seem a bit flimsy, and
(b) on one side of mine (the right side)
the little bracket that attaches
the strap to the chute pack
is broken.

The scene changes
and my dad (who is no doubt paying
for this experience for everyone) and I
are back at the skydiving company’s
headquarters. I’m carrying
the defective chute pack.

We’ve been directed to the office
of the owner of the company
located at the top of a long flight
of wooden stairs on the outside
of a hangar-like blue metal building.

My dad takes the lead and I follow
up the stairs. He knocks at the door,
and an elderly, tidy and intelligent looking
Japanese gentleman opens it and invites us in.

---