Dream: Deadribs

I had this dream upon returning to California from the trip in January 1985 spent in southern Honduras and northern Nicaragua, the latter illegally. We had crossed the Río Coco in a dugout canoe. Most of our party were armed Miskito and Sumo Indians, fighting against the Sandinista government of Nicaragua. Many of these "contra" fighters were teenagers. I was an unarmed journalist. The kids were careless about handling their weapons, so I looked down a lot of gun barrels that week, up close.

Dream: Deadribs        

I am dead. I'm a skeleton. Wind blows between my ribs. I can't move; can't leave the place that is death. People who aren't dead can visit me here. My wife comes, and friends. They ask what it's like. I answer that I'm sad I can't go back with them to the place of the living, but that loneliness isn't the worst part. The worst part is not being able to move. That, and being a skeleton, with the air passing freely between my ribs, not blocked by any organs or skin, the uncaring wind blowing through me and not finding any life there, no warm barrier between my bones and the wind.