I dreamt that I was flying. Long above the Manhattan, long above the tiny people living their lives as they know it. I felt so light, shapeless and fast, it was the best way I could describe it. Dark clouds had begun to cover the city. I flew past the Yankee Stadium and landed on top Chrysler building. I took shape as a man again and hanged on the spike on top of the building. I just stared into the clouds, waiting something I did not yet know until it came. The dark clouds light up as the lightning roared and flashed, I caught myself roaring with it. Yelling out my pain, sorrow, loss and suffering into the dark abyss, as if it understood. As if the thunderclouds shared my pain, it began to weep. Rain fell as silent curtains. Rain drops landed on my cheek, taking its place among my tears. For some reason I just reached out my one hand, begging for strength and courage to take one more step through my unknown fate. As a hand reaching out with empathy, the lightning struck my hand. It felt so warm and tickled, until it felt so hot and tried to rip my body apart.
I let go of my grasp on the spike and just fell. The lightning still held on my hand, burning its way through arm and body. I didn´t turn shapeless or anything, I just fell headfirst. I didn´t try to fight the gravity, I had accepted what were to come. The rain felt as if it stood still in time and space. I stopped crying, feeling sorry for whatever I´ve done, regretting what I never done, regretting whomever I had hurt in my path. Beneath me a red glow grew, something I had unleashed was what I must lock away again. I readied my burning arm with lighting still tearing and roaring. It felt as if I was pulling down the heaven upon the red glow. I gave whatever inch of strength into the arm. Whatever I planned to do, I wasn´t planning to come back. Then it hit me, it wasn´t a dream. It was the future. My future.