Dream

I wrote this dream down as soon as I woke up.  The sentences are fragmented and random, due in part to the crazy nature of my dream and because it was about three in the morning.  I was going to go through and rewrite the sentences so as to be more “academic”, but I figured the initial raw telling was the way it should be kept.  In the story is Vick Ballard, who is a black running back for the Indianapolis Colts.  Why he was in my dream I have no idea.  I know very little about him and I’m not a Colts fan.  Plus, in the dream he was a normal-looking white guy probably in his 30s.  Very random.

I’m flying in a hang glider, but it wasn’t going so well.  Going to crash, fighting and fighting…can’t gain control smash into the ground but then recover and am back airborne.  Out of control again, on the verge of panic.  Suddenly Vick Ballard takes over…I’m not him but I see both from his point of view and from a birds eye.  He crashes hard into a field and is injured.  We need to get away…we’re in hostile territory…but he can’t move, he’s too injured from the crash.  I am fine and know we have to leave so we go but I look back and he’s struggling to move.  There are two giant vulture bird things that don’t fly but are walking instead on the ground, probably half our heights with big beaks that can sense something is wounded.  We both notice them…they aren’t interested in me but they are eyeing and circling Vick Ballard.  I shoo them away and we keep moving.  But Vick is getting worse, slowing down…and the birds are getting bolder, smelling blood in the water.  We keep moving but Vick keeps slowing down more and more and every time I look back I see those wretched birds getting closer and closer to him, picking at him with their giant beaks.  On the last time I turned around to try to scare them away, the birds didn’t flee.  They stood their ground and I knew I had to fight them to save Vick, who had saved me by taking over the flight earlier.  Very tense…all of a sudden one of the birds attacks me and I move to the side and grab the bird’s beak, it was so sharp and hurt my hands, but with a great effort I ripped its beak apart opposite from the way it clamps down when it eats.  One down, but there were more of them.

Then I woke up.