I am on a motorcycle and I am thundering up a mountain side through leaves and roots along a weathered jungle road.
Beside me on another bike is my brother.
We are driving to top of the mountain at high speed and we know that up there – there is a lethal turn.
My brother turns to look at me believing the turn is on his side of the road. He wants to be the one to pummel to his death, because he wishes to be the sacrifice and I the storyteller.
Him and I.
Cain and Abel.
Instead I fool him by indicating with his hands that the drop is on my side. We switch and then prepare our minds.
We share a glance at the last second.
I go tumbling off the mountain top and splatter to my death.
My brother ab-sails down to grieve over my body – but when he is there he realizes I am still conscious – even though I am definitely dead.
He teases me by flicking the ash from his cigarette onto my remains.
We share a laugh at this, and then I say with all the seriousness of my heart: “tell me story”.
He nods forlornly in response and firmly states that my story will be known.
15 – December – 2015
A particularly strange and funny dream which contains within it a great feeling of comradeship with my “brother”. I noted beneath the dream: “Believe in yourself Steafan, you can do it right”.