-Being caught, and handcuffed, and led outside to the dozens of officials. Waiting long enough for them to see me, then turning invisible, phasing through my handcuffs and flying off, just to see the look on their faces.

-Being at a Tori concert with small group of people, being able to sit just a few feet away from her and her piano. She had wild curly hair and seemed sad. When we hugged her at an intermission, she didn't hug us like she used to, she didn't get very close. I woke up with one song she'd been singing stuck in my head, it was one I'd never heard before.

not giving in to being chased

back to mid-air acrobatics and fight scenes; earning back my bravery and will to take chances across lanes of traffic. Hand-to-hand combat with a man in a suit. I was back in Wichita, near maize and 21st. I can't recall whether we were moving slowly or so quickly that the world felt slow.

On the threshold of waking I thought about the fact that it was dreams like this that inspired me to write the stories I do. Or, did. I always write them in my mind but rarely on paper any more.

Flying through what felt like old school buildings- a red-tailed hawk being trapped, and setting him free- knowing that later They will come to find what i have done, the broken windows and missing bird, but feeling like i'm plenty ahead of Them.

driving by the airport on our escape. all the lights are out, there are people outside with flags trying to wave the planes away because it is not safe for them to land. the pilots cannot see them in the night. a small group of onlookers and i watch as one plane crashes audibly beyond the terminal building; another tries to correct the mistake too late and the body of the plane crashes around the control tower and topples it in fire.

the realization that my flight will be canceled, and that i will have to keep moving forward, on foot, to my destination.