This can not be happening, this can not happen, this is a dream. But it was happening all the same. The new friends were climbing the tree now. He sat there, clinging to a branch, his heart pounding but his mind racing.
So you died in a dream , right buddy? Could you not as well have died with your head in the toilet bowl? Died while crapping in your pants?
No, he cant die this way. He discovered for the first time that the human spirit has a whole lot of respect for itself, even the worst of us hate a wasted death, an end without a cause. He had to do something. If this was a game, then he had to play, if this was a dream, he had to dream.
If she could could fly, so can I. The laws of physics can take a walk. We all fly in our dreams, Sam decided to fly. I will jump off this tree and fly. And you will breathe fire too? Wont you?
No, the little voices in the head can eat their sarcasm. It was time to fly. One of the good climbers was now almost at his feet and had begun to climb the same branch where Sam sat.
Go for it dude, you have the balls. Which you might loose after the jump. But the decision had been made. Sam took off, hands and legs spread eagle, he jumped. He did not fall, he crashed.
He lay on his back, jaw fractured, 4 decorated blood stained teeth lying on the street. He had attempted to break the fall with his hands and he was pretty sure that his left thumb was broken, his legs, though badly bruised, were miraculously not broken. After a quick mental evaluation of his injuries, he blacked out.
The scene might have been funny for a person looking. Here we have a boy, who climbs a tree, stays there the whole day, and then jumps down smash head. Too old to be playing Super-man, aren't we?
He lay on the street, the sun completely down now. Sad wind blew at a mocking pace and stained his blood stained face with dirt. There was no one around, there had never been anyone but him.