Night flight to San Francisco. Chase the moon across America. God!

It has been years since I was on a

plane. When we hit 35000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air. As close as
I’ll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were already there. The plane leapt the tropopause, and
attained the outer rim, the ozone which was ragged and torn, patches of it as threadbare as old
cheesecloth and that was frightening. But then I saw something only I could see because of my
astonishing ability to see such things. Souls were rising, from the ground ( earth far) below, souls of the
dead who’d perished from famine, from war, from the plague and they floated up like skydivers in
reverse, limbs akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of the (these) departed joined hands,
clasped ankles and formed a web, a great net of souls. And the souls were 3 atom oxygen molecules of
the stuff of the ozone and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this
world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind and dreaming ahead. At
least I think that’s so.

Super-objective: I want to be empassioned about my future and forgive my past.

Moment before- I have packed up my life of 10 years and left Joe. I am sitting in the airport in New York
at night waiting for my flight to San Francisco. Why San Francisco family there maybe?

Obstacle- my anger and resentment

Beat 1) It has been years since things have been good with me and Joe.

Beat 2) I must conquer my fears of being alone.

Beat 3)I must accept my relationship is over and get out of my comfort zone.

Beat 4) I must confront the facts.

Beat 5) I can still have a happy life.

Beat 6) I will be fine.

Beat 7) not totally sure about her future