Astral Projections

The umbilical cord snapped and Dorothy found herself reeling headlong into oblivion. Fascinated. Perplexed. Exhilarated. Frightened. She allows herself to be pulled forward. The same dream has repeated itself before: She's standing at the edge of a building, she topples over, tumbling L-shaped into nothing. She anticipates the thump, the soft splatter of flesh melting with concrete. Yet she offers no resistance this time. She goes towards completion. Her heart like a caged canary is pushing down against her rib cage. She keeps going. She doesn't wake up. And suddenly......the climax becomes the anticlimax; the downward plunge becomes the upward swoop. The expected impact gives way to stillness. She's at peace. She's floating. All the colors are saturated at the corner of her eyes. In front of her, only liquid black. Down below, the continents are tantalizingly spread like jam on toast.
As the light filters through her eyelashes, she rolls over to her side and wonders about the other transcendental tourists, who embarked on the same journey last night. She wonders why she didn't book her tickets sooner.