There was a moss-covered cliff, hundreds of feet high, and directly below that, a deep pond. Someone got the idea to jump off the edge into the water, for the thrill of it. Everyone was sure he would die, but then he didn't. With the first successful jump in mind, a young couple dove after him, and they also lived. A family of four thought for sure it was safe after that. "It's not safe, don't do it," I thought. Hand in hand, they jumped anyway. I watched as two of them tumbled down the side of the cliff to their death. Of the two that missed the cliff, the boy was fine, but his sister hit the water funny and broke her neck. After that came a slow motion montage of jumpers. Some of them bobbed to the surface, smiling. One girl bounced off the side of the cliff twice and then fell into the water with both legs broken. Judging by their clothes, the whole thing took place in the seventies. All the jumpers were beautiful, and, forgive me for saying so, crazy.
Here in the woods I meditate a lot. I’m wondering if that’s what’s causing all of these cinematic dreams. What do you think it means?