Today is a Private Pyle day. I didn't intend for it to be this way — the sun is out and at least it's not Monday — but it's the dreams, man. The fucking dreams are getting to me. Last night's science fiction double feature starred yours truly on a country road. Hot summer night. Crickets and frogs singing. No fucking cane, laughing and happy, arms swinging — big steps, galloping steps, and then I break into a run and I know I look like a young man, a teenager, a kid. Someone alive.
"Can you believe it?" I shout to my friend. "I can run!"
In the darkness I never see the wall until I slam into it.
I wake up to find I've fallen out of bed and hit the floor. It's 3:20 a.m. That's it for sleep.
It's time to put on shoes and go for a walk. Maybe there's voodoo out there.