In my dreams I sometimes feel like the mute, terrified observer of history going past, unable to do nothing, but watch it pass by.
I saw my dead friend on the street, someone said"I can't believe he's gone"., I said he's not gone, look! I pointed up, and there he was, standing on top of a silo, the sun at his back his arms held high in triumph; but then I realized I was watching this from a city bus going down the street; the scene I was watching receding from me even as I realized this was the past I was watching, and I would never be there again.
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