I woke up one night wondering if I was alive or dead. I dreamt the FBI broke into my house with guns drawn, and a firefight broke out between them and me, they not realizing I was an expert shot on most weapons. I understood that my life was over and decided to do my best to fight the idea of a woke country. It is hard to believe the blame will be on me, but the men coming into my house while I was sound asleep made all my decision come alive without hesitation. When you are attacked, the time before life and death are milliseconds, and your preparation, mentally and physically, is the only thing that will keep you alive. Having unexpected battles, the one that shoots the most isn’t always the winner; the most accurate will win most encounters.

I drive away, knowing my life is over; it is only a matter of how and when. What do I accomplish with what time I have left(remember, this is a dream)? I am going to be protrade as a villain when even at that moment in time, I have know idea how everything went down, just how I reacted to the situation.

I realized I had to be out of a car tied to me in any way. I drive my car close to a railway crossing, remembering a pond not too far away, and move it into the water and watch it sink away. I am returning to the railroad crossing to find a train going very slow. I had destroyed my phone before I left the house, but I did have a flip phone that no one knows about, I bought for a worker who quit. After watching car after car go by but no open doors, I decided I must jump on board and climb to the roof to make my way to the west.

Now that I would be wanted dead or alive, what would I do? Knowing my life being caught would not happen to what degree would I be willing to change maybe the country and even the world? In my thoughts, I noticed a small airport coming up in the distance; even though I hadn’t flown in years, stealing a plane and getting far away might be the answer, so I jumped.

The little airport only had about four planes, all older than I had ever flown. I climbed into the Cessna that had very few instruments and started trying to figure out how to get it into the air. I was in luck. It is an older plane; it didn’t even need a key. The regular checking of the plane out was skipped. I finally figured out how to start the aircraft and noticed at the same time that it had almost a full tank of gas; darkness had fallen as I moved the plane towards the dark runway, saying a little prayer as I was going to fly away, and off I go.

I realized maybe 200 or so miles of gas in the dark (35 years ago my last flight.) It takes a little flying around, but I find Interstate Ten and head away, following a road to GOD knows where and what to do when I get there. The lights of Houston go on forever as I fly over, trying to maintain Interstate 10 and staying away from the Bush and all other airports, flying low.

The lights of Houston are far behind me, but my fuel is low, and all I see is darkness. My mind, for a minute, thinks maybe I should turn myself in and at least get to see my wife and kids again, but that is quickly put to rest. I can’t land on the freeway. The police would be upon me immediately, which was out of the question. If I land in the field, what do I do if I survive? My decision-making took too long. The engine on the plane was sputtering out of gas; now I must land. Another thought raced into my head, maybe dive straight into the ground and end it all.

Suicide even in great battles in war never entered my mind. But if i am going to fight to try save the nation, more lives will be taken by me. Am I ready to attack the enemies of the nation by force, by myself, to what end? The engine is now dead, in my mind reflecting on days past of firefights and deaths of many as a young man, as the nose of the plane now vertically screaming toward the ground at full speed. My mind is blank as the ground nears,” when my wife shaking me to wake up, do I want a cup of coffee. Only a dream.