In my dream I’m a drummer in a band. I don’t play drums and can’t carry a beat. My band mate looks at me to start the song and I think I’ll do a count: one, two, one, two, three, four, and try hitting the sticks against the drum like I know what song, like I know the beat that’s to the song that we will be playing.

And it's wrong, it’s all wrong. The guitarist can’t get it going, and I’m banging for a moment and then stop. There’s no music. We look at each other and there is disappointment in his dark eyes covered by his dark hair. He thought I could play.

On the plane the intercom comes on and wakes me up from the dream that I'm having. I try to pay attention and listen to a woman’s voice ask if there is a doctor on board, a nurse, an EMT, anything, then to please push your call button, and then, thank you. I wait. I hear a ding and then nothing. The few people I could see crank their heads up and down the aisle.

The woman on my right puts her Brad Meltzer book in her lap and the poor binding comes apart and the page that begins Chapter 32 comes out and she doesn’t notice like it won’t affect the plot. The page, it slips down her skirt between us. She’s more curious that I about who is hurt, who’s dying on the plane she’s flying, will this mean we’ll have to emergency land.