F'Ever: The Battle Forever, by David Hawkins

I Dreamed About Killing You Again Last Night

Josh finally heard a voice that was not his own. At first he couldn’t make out the words. Just a sweet, melodic tone that repeated itself. It repeated itself so many times that he started to recognize it. Now only half the sound was coming from the radio, and the other half was in his head. There it echoed. It sounded like it was chanting or incanting. He couldn’t figure out which.

Then there wasn’t just a voice anymore. There was the roar of a plane overhead that sounded like a lion. Waves were slamming against the rocks and falling back in on themselves. Tires glided and thumped over a cracked and uneven parkway. Josh’s eyes slowly begun to roll open as he finally became aware of what he was listening to… and where he was.

“You gotta be shittin’ me…”

The blue horizon stretched on into space. In no place was it still, but far out past the waves the water seemed calmer as it crawled into eternity. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to have fallen asleep in Kansas City and woken up here. But this particular side of Lake Michigan leaves no room to doubt where you are. The shiny crown they’d placed on top of Soldier Field nearly blinded him. The Skyline peaked out of a dense morning mist like it was Oz. And the lulling sound of Jeff Tweedy's voice on the radio was real:

I’m coming home I’m coming home …Via Chicago

Before he knew it he was past the Field Museum. He’d been gone less than a year, but buildings he’d never seen before towered above him. Titanesque structures in glass and steel. He paid them no mind. He didn’t look once in the direction of the Sear’s Tower. He kept his eyes glued to the east. He kept staring at the gargantuan inland sea. He realized that somewhere, thousands of feet down, this water had a bottom. Somewhere the city had a heart. He didn’t need to see Chicago anymore. He could feel it all around him. The trees, and the cars, and the waves, and the wind, and the tires, and the feet, and the wings, and the leaves, and the seeds, and the doves.

Everything moved and swayed. The city in perpetual motion. And somewhere it had a bottom. Somewhere deep down it was still. And everywhere around him it was home.

He picked his sunglasses off of the floor, it was early still, tucked the legs behind his ears. Looking away from Lake Michigan, he leaned his head back and fell asleep.