Launching a Bus into The Ground

I was dreaming when I saw it
A bus flying through the air
A hundred feet or more above the ground
A bus with hundreds of heads poking out
The roof was open, by accident or design
And I could hear them, cheering
I had time to draw my phone and dial nine
I ran while dialing, guessing, gauging
I wanted to be there when the bus fell
How does a bus fly like that?
I wondered
Now well
I concluded
Because they were about to crash
Who would try to launch a bus like that?
I wondered
A happy person
I concluded
Because they sounded like they were having fun
The screaming happy bus landed
Digging deep into the fresh, moist, dark soil all around
The bus landed on its side and spilled out people
I got there in time to help the first few out
I could only help a few, though
Everyone wanted to talk to me
“We’re all afraid no more,” one guy said
He wore a pencil thin moustache and had on a black beret
I told him I didn’t understand
“We’re always so afraid,” the same guy said
“Money,” another explained. “We’re always afraid of money.”
I repeated myself.
“We can climb mountains together,” a third explained.
“We can jump out of planes together. We can white water raft together.”
Those things didn’t scare me either, I said.
I just don’t think I would enjoy it.
“Oh,” the first guy said. “We don’t either. We just do it all the time.”
I tried to get away. The bus stopped spilling happy, screaming people.
It just vomited them one or two at a time.
I wanted to help.
It got hard to concentrate for all the happiness.
I woke up to the sound of my clock radio playing top forty pop music.
For a weird, screwed up dream, it seemed awfully real.

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