Just as I touched the metal handle there was a strike so intense it knocked out all other awareness.
I was on a prairie.
Nothing much was happening. I merely stood in the grass. In front of me, slightly to my right, a white Airstream sat on a little mound of earth.
With a whiplash switch in a fraction of a fraction of an increment time, I knew I had to get to the trailer before lightning struck.
I was at the door but it was too late. Just as I touched the metal handle there was a strike so intense it knocked out all other awareness. It was as if I ceased to exist. There was only a crash of sound and a flash of light.
It subsided for a moment. My senses recovered. I was aware of my hand on the handle and wondered that I hadn’t been killed.
Then it happened again. Once more, no room for thoughts or identity. Only lightning: sound and light.
The strikes grew until they came without ceasing. There were so many that even though it was obliterating, I slowly realized I could still feel my feet on the stone step before the trailer even though I wasn’t even really there, wasn’t really alive–yet not dead either.
Then I awoke with a delightful awareness of The Trickster (you know who you are, VCTR) and wondered if it was possible to go deaf from sound in a dream.