I had a dream...

Last night was all sorts of crazy. It was about death, in three parts.

Part 1
I'm on the river rafting with my first girlfriend. I didn't really want to be there, but it seemed like such a great day for rafting that I might as well enjoy it. We rafted down the wide, winding river lazily; we soaked in the sun and the sights. But before we knew it, the river picked up speed and we started to collide with other deserted rafts. I should mention that when I say "raft" I don't mean an inflatable dingy, but a traditional planks-and-logs kind of thing. I was sure I could navigate us through, but my ex was worried and sceptical. What's really strange is that we came out to a labyrinth of aqueducts and waterways. The raft became a hover-raft (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and I simply flew over the whole system toward the lake on the other side. My ex insists that we're skipping over the best part, so I land it in the waterways. Turns out they're part of the zoo/amusement part and are those water-type rollercoasters. Our raft gets picked up on the unreasonably fast conveyor and brings us up to the top. We whip around a corner and are plummeted down towards the waterways again. I'll admit, while there was an element of fun, there was also the absolute terror in the fact that we were not attached. The raft was not designed for this track. We were taken up another ramp, but we hadn't lost much momentum. We round the corner at the top and, with nothing to hold onto, I am cast off the edge. From a wide angle shot from the shore I see my body fall seventy feet towards the water with speed and grace like I fell out of the back of a pickup truck. Just before contact, I wake up.

Part 2
I went back to sleep A) to see if I could resume and save myself (with the brilliant plan of pulling myself into a dive and cutting through the water like a dolphin in a show. I did not. The ending was cut from when I last woke up. But soon after, I start a new story.
It's me and the love of my life. It's the holidays and her parents (who are actually another girl's parents, I just know and like them better) are having their friends over constantly. I suggest to the girl that we get away from it all and hide away in my treehouse, which is literally a modern cabin built in a tree. Before I know it, there are two men at the door (of my treehouse). The girl opens the door. They don't say a word. They shoot her and walk quickly through the house. I duck out a side door and and call the secret service (again, don't ask. I just know them, I guess). I scream and panic and threaten the men.

Part 3
My sister's boyfriend (the love of her life) who lives across the street from the treehouse came to investigate. He opens the door and before he gets a chance to even speak, the men kill him too. I could try and stop them, but I've already died in my dreams once today. I would barely step in the room before I was shot dead too. Though, given the rest of the dream, it may have been better to have died.

Epilogue
I return to the parents' house. It all happened a minute ago to me, and is years ago for them. The same holiday party. The same people. The livelihood is superficial, but they're trying. I remember a line to a song:
"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind to follow you into the dark."
I've almost got myself convinced to kill myself, but I knew she wouldn't want that. If she was waiting there for me, she'd wait for me until my time came. But she wasn't waiting. There was no sense dying. No real sense in living other than you can't change your mind about it later. So there I was, the world around my moving while my life had ground to a stop under the burden of a lost love and the guilt of the loss of another's love. I don't know what I could have done to stop him from being killed, but I feel like I could have done something.

-

I'm on that old raft again, drifting down the river. The world lacks even the indication of colour. I look at the shore and there is her mother driving her car on the road along the bank. She looks at me and I stare at her. She's drained, somewhat emptied, but hopeful at the same time. She is who the girl would have been. She is who the girl will never be. She is the woman I will never know.