Analytical Dream

I was racing down the interstate, late getting to my destination. There was a semi truck in the right hand lane and I needed to get around it. As I started to pass, the road started to curve. The semi began moving over into my lane with nowhere to go, but into the median. As I drifted I noticed it was not a semi at all. It was a Budweiser truck drawn by six dark, giant horses. Their hair and their tails flying high behind them in the wind as they charged ahead over 90 miles an hour.

I am driving in the median trying to stay on track and not lose control. The horses never stop; they keep pushing me over and over until I cross the other side of the interstate. The embankment on the other side of the road it a mass of dark brown mud. Mountains of soft, suffocating mud. The horses lose control, knocking me out of my car and into the mud. I am flying high and then sliding down the muddy hillside. The horses are still moving towards me, chasing me down the hillside. I am shoving my feet and my arms into the mud trying to slow myself down and stop the falling before the horses land on top of me. I can feel the mud consuming me, comfortably surrounding me and slowing suffocating me.

I cannot die. I cannot leave yet, I have too much to do. My mother will cry and my father will miss me. I have to beat the horses. I cannot let them fall on me.

The movement stops. I am lying at the bottom of the muddy hillside. I am alive. There is something wrong with my leg, but I do not care. I get up. I walk away the only survivor except for one horse. He is standing calmly in the middle of the road. He is waiting for me. He is my only way to get away from this place. I climb on his back and we ride together to find my parents, to find help. I see the police and the ambulance down the road, but they are so far away. Why are they so far down the road, when we are down here?

He takes me to them, to safety, as I lay on his back. He delivers me home, the only survivor.