dream, 3:45 - 7:26, may 11. part 2.

My eyes flicked open and focused, and I was immediately stricken with terror. Us cliff-sitters were at the very top of the tower, suspended in metal chairs over the congregation.
The chair rocked at extreme angles, almost to the point where I would have slipped off if it tilted any farther. There were no harnesses or handle bars. There was nothing to hold onto.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the chair pitched back and forth. I was waiting for someone else to scream and fall off their chair, fall down into the assembly, where there body would be splayed out and broken in a pile of blood.
I wasn’t one to believe in miracles, but I started praying for a saintly coincidence that would keep me alive.
Peterka began to explain the physics behind what was keeping us in the chairs, when we surely should have been falling off. But I couldn’t listen to her. I let my eyes go out as far as they could, and tried to imagine I was just flying, to take some of the terror away.
My eyes alighted on the playground far below, and I was immediately distracted from the potential death I was facing.
Lacey was on my playground, in a red dress. She was spinning around in circles, with her hair piled on top of her head. It was far away, but I was straining my eyes to see if she had any money in her hands. My payment.

Suddenly Ms. Peterka stopped talking, and the chairs stopped rocking. We were retracted onto the roof of the tower, and I could suddenly stand on solid ground. Several other girls collapsed beside me, and I saw their eyes were wet with tears. They had been sobbing from fright.
We were being lead down the steps as the audience applauded wildly, but before I could exit the roof, Ms. Peterka put her hand on my shoulder and stopped me.
“There’s someone I want you to meet, “ she said. An eleven year old girl dressed in late 1920’s fashion had been standing in a corner of the roof, and Ms. Peterka brought her forward.
“This is the President of the corporation,” Peterka said, by way of introduction.
I shook the president’s hand.
“He financed the entire project with revenue from the brothel he runs in Amsterdam.”
He. He? This girl was a man?
I looked him over carefully. He still looked to me like a ghostly little girl.
“You will have to interview him at some point for your project,” she said.
I nodded.
“You may go,” Peterka said. I began down the tower steps, and as I left I saw the President’s eyes follow me.

I had to get back to the playground.
At the bottom of the steps however, all of the physics students were being herded onto buses. We were to be taken to hotels, where we all had to stay while doing our project. I had no time to get to the playground.
I climbed onto a bus, and my eyes adjusted to the interior. It was lit by gas lamps, and it looked exactly like a furniture store. My eyes searched for Sean Michael so I could get my money from him, but he was nowhere.
I sat down at a table with Elena and Amanda. An odd assortment of other people littered the back of the bus, and as we started moving, someone called out, “Why the fuck do we have to do this project in a hotel?”
“Because the President is a bit queer,” I said vaguely. Everyone’s eyes focused on me immediately.
“That’s totally uncalled for,” Elena said sternly. “It’s very incorrect to say ‘queer’ as an insult, it’s worse than calling things gay!”
I just sat for a second, until my brain recalled the obvious homosexual connotations. I had simply meant that the President was odd.
“I didn’t mean—“
“Pfft, we all know exactly what you meant. I feel horrible for whoever has to share a room with you. I have never met someone so intolerant! Ugh,” Amanda said.
I fell silent, and waited for the bus ride to be over.