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Raymond McRae walked down a hallway in an empty office building.  At least he thought it was empty.  The hall stretched on and on for what seemed like miles.  Ray started to run, first a quick jog, then a sprint, and then he was running faster than he’d ever run before but he still couldn’t make any progress.  The hall was never ending.  Finally a warm light at the end shone brightly, welcoming him.  As Ray increased his speed the light shined brighter until he got close enough to dive headlong into the blissful luminescence.

When he opened his eyes he saw angels.  Winged youthful men and women flying by above him.  Overwhelmed by their glory, he got down on his knees to pray.  “Thank you, God.  I’m sorry, Jesus.”  He wasn’t sure what he was sorry about.  He could feel divine beings soaring through the air above him as if illuminating his own heart.  The angels felt like everything. Ray felt like nothing.  He bowed lower and pressed his forehead to the floor.  “I’ll try not to sin, God, please help me be like the angels.”  He felt a weight lift off his back as if gravity had disappeared.  Rolling over and sitting up, he saw that the angels were gone. Instead there was a vast white room full of golden sunlight.  He could feel the light, like it was the truest part of himself, and the next thing he knew he was floating above the floor.  For a moment he thought about trying to fly, but something stopped him.  He had to stay humble.  Resisting the urge to blast off Ray descended back to the floor to keep praying.  The only problem was there was no floor.  The further he descended, the more luminous space he found.  His own kitchen appeared below him where his wife, Clara, was making breakfast.  He flew down toward her and seated himself at the kitchen table. 

“Good morning, honey,” said Clara.

“I’m having the strangest dream,” he replied.

“I hope it was a good one—wait, did you say having?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m real.”  She walked over with his plate of pancakes and kissed him.  “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Raymond thought for a second and tried to fly again.  He levitated above his chair then quickly settled back down.  “Yep, I’m dreaming.”

“I promise I’m real,” she said from behind the counter.

“Did you see that?  I can fly.”

Clara laughed, “Prove it.”

When he tried to levitate again he couldn’t do it.  “Come on,” he said, hitting the chair with his hands.  When his wife turned her back to him he started floating again.

“Clara, look!”

She turned to look but Ray had already dropped back into his chair.

“I believe you,” she said smiling.  “I’ll believe anything nowadays.”

He kept expecting to wake up and when he didn’t, Ray decided for humility’s sake to not float or fly anymore, at least not for a little while.  He feared God might punish him for his audacity.  The incident at the diner had made him curious about what he was supposed to do and whom he was supposed to be, and whether or not it was a sign intended for him at all.  Reaching for the morning paper, he read the headline, “School Board to Meet Over Dropout Debacle.”

When Elliot had walked out of the classroom back in Spring it had catalyzed a chain reaction of dropouts at his school and other high schools in the area.  He’d unintentionally become a legend among young people of the city, having stood up for the freedom of minors everywhere.  Some of them were contending for the age of legal adulthood to be dropped to sixteen or seventeen at the oldest.  The dreams had made them restless.  Who wants to sit in a classroom all day when you could be roaming a magical wonderland?

The adults were concerned about this because the incident had raised some serious questions.  Should teenagers be given more freedom now that heavenly signs and wonders were a regular part of life?  Should the curriculum be revised to give students and parents more of a say in what teens learn before going to college?  Should high schools be more specialized?  The students who dropped out were legally required to attend school. They could be forced to go back, but as for these questions there were no easy answers.

Elliot and the other students who left were forced to take their exams in order to return to school in Autumn.  He passed the tests and promised he wouldn’t cause any more trouble by rebelling against the academic powers that be.  “I like music,” was all he said in his defense.

Although the people of the city had been praying more, attending church, prioritizing righteousness, giving more to charity than ever before, and volunteering in their spare time, the dreams still hadn’t become less frequent.  Not that anyone wanted to stop experiencing pure joy.  There was a quiet yet persistent voice in the back of their minds telling them to slow down, the time for heaven would come soon.  No one was happier about their efforts than Ethan.  The city’s leaders commanding people to settle down, fast, and pray was music to his ears.  He’d been waiting for someone in authority to step up and tell people to be humble.  Life grows upwards, and when it doesn’t grow true it gets cut down and thrown into the fire.  Ethan was scared for the people of Weatherview.

On a hot afternoon in mid-August, Ethan, Linda, and Casey were walking around checking out the shops on East Tenth Street.  He was explaining to his wife how the bad parts of life, the sadness, anger, etcetera, were being weeded out of creation so that only good things could thrive and grow.

“Jesus is the true vine.  We are the branches.  When we abide in the true vine we do good things and good things happen for us.  Everything else gets removed and thrown in the fire.”

“I used to think about the bad things,” said Linda.  “I’d worry and get frustrated.  I don’t anymore, at least I don’t think I do.”

“There you have it.  The very same change is affecting the entire world.”

Just then a car jumped the curb and smashed into a tree near the sidewalk where the family of three were walking.  No one got hit, Casey was alright, the airbag got deployed and the driver was okay, just a little stunned.  Ethan lost control and pulled the driver out of the car and dragged him over to his wife and son.  He forced the man down on his knees and ordered him to apologize.

A police officer came running to assess the situation.  Without drawing his gun he told Ethan to put his hands behind his head and back away.  Ethan refused, shouting at the man on the ground to say he’s sorry.

“Sir, I’m an officer of the law and I’m asking you to back away now!”

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I’m sorry,” said the man on his knees.

“Again!”

“Ethan, enough,” said Linda

“You could have killed them.”

“Sir, this is your last warning, back away.”

“You back away,” he said to the officer, shoving the other driver down onto the sidewalk.

At that the officer drew a Taser from his belt and sent fifty-thousand volts through his body.  He convulsed on the pavement for a few seconds then lay still.

The incident landed Ethan in the Psychiatric Department of St. Perpetua’s Hospital for a minimum of two weeks and cost him three thousand dollars in fines and court costs.