In Or Out

In a Dream

I had fallen asleep in a school bus that turned from canary yellow to dismal gray. When I woke up, the bus was taking me somewhere I did not recognize. It was not stopping no matter how much I yelled, “Let me out.” Then I noticed there was no driver, but the bus was going down a long winding hill. Finally it reached the end of its route and idled still.

I had to walk back without knowing the way back home, but I could see certain features from the distance. I was in a section of boarded-up houses, broken streets taken over by crabgrass, and there was no one to ask directions.

I tried running really fast. I never ran so fast in my life, but I was not tiring. I could see my city in the distance and I was not getting any closer. It was always on the right, no matter where I ran, the road never headed towards my city. It was like I was on a treadmill.

I was in a place most people never see, but I knew it for what it was. It felt familiar. No matter how fast I ran, I never escaped it. No matter how fast I ran, I never could get closer to where I thought I belonged.

I was already where I belonged. I was in extreme poverty.