Aurora Dreaming/Fremont/Feb 23/3:30 pm: Officer Manning reports: "On this date, I, along with several other officers, responded to a construction area in the 2700 block of Westlake Avenue North, after a construction worker called and reported a man had just jumped off the Aurora Bridge and landed in the construction area. Officers arrived at the scene and found the victim lying face-down, against a tree, on a bushy hillside of that block. SFD personnel arrived at the scene and upon checking the victim, found he was obviously deceased, that any treatment would be useless in reviving him, as his injuries were too severe.

"I interviewed the complainant/witness and a fellow worker. Both stated that they were standing in the construction zone, underneath the Aurora Bridge, when they saw the victim falling through the air, from the west side of the bridge. He landed where the officers found him. I went on to the Aurora Bridge, but didn't find any witnesses. Sgt. Rivera screened the incident."

So often in dreams we find ourselves falling from a great height--the top of a skyscraper, the portal of a jet plane, a tremendous cliff. There we are high in the blue air heading toward the end. Our mind is fully conscious of the pressure, the pull, the wild flapping, the inhuman sky noises, and the fact that time is fast running out. We scream and yell but nothing stops the falling. A black dot becomes a neighborhood block, then a street, then a tree, then there are branches and leaves everywhere, then you hit the ground, then you wake up in your bed. In the dream you are "obviously deceased" (and oneiric officers have been called to investigate the incident), but in the real world you are alive and well. One thing for sure, this didn't happen to the jumper in the police report; he didn't suddenly wake up in bed at the moment he hit the construction site.

Death Cab/Downtown/March 1/10 pm: This report by Officer Hanley, which involves a strange disturbance caused by a cab driver and his fare, reminds me of a strange cab ride I took recently. Night had just fallen and I was downtown, trying to catch a cab ride home. I waved at an approaching cab, and it turned and stopped by me. I got in the front seat because there was a man in the back seat. I didn't see this man's face, just his shape (he was largish).

"Where are you going?" asked the driver.

"To Jackson and 14th," I answered.

"Do you mind sharing the ride with this man?"

"No," I said.

"Good," answered the cab driver. As soon as we began moving, I heard desperately heavy breathing behind me. The man I was sharing the ride with was fighting hard to get air into his lungs. I didn't look back at him. The driver was on the cell phone talking heartily to another East African. The broken breathing machine (his mouth, throat, chest) of whoever it was back there wheezed and rattled. Amazingly, he was still alive when I got out of the cab and paid what I owed. The cab then drove the dying man to his destination.