When it fell, I found myself back o my old street, where I grew up.
I met the son of the king who was the victor, for the king had died in the battle.
I apparently, was the song of the other king, who had also died, but apparently not in battle.
The son and I talked and after a while we said to each other, we could have been friends, if it had not been for this war, for we had much in common.
I said, “We should still be friends.” And so it was.
I then find my self in the house where I grew up.
It was cluttered and a bit disheveled. Half of shoe of my dad’s was lying around.
I found myself on the front porch and there was a plant box, long dried out.
As I poured water on it, dust rose up as it does when the dirt is really dry.
There were dried up cactus in the box and I believed they would come back to life.
I was alone in the house, but it looked the same as when I was growing up.
Did not want to be alone in this house, but I was.