He was floating down the river. He wasn’t sure if he was getting better or worse.
The raft underneath him was comforting, though a bit hard. The gentle sound of the water lapping against and over it somehow reassuring.
He did not know how long the river was or where it would take him. He only knew he’d been on it for his whole life, unable to open his eyes and get off the raft.
The current began to pick up pace and the smooth river turned into a fast moving and bumpy torrent. The water, now more agitated was beginning to slop over the sides and splash him with cold, wet, authority.
Some of the water hit his lips and he instinctively licked them and realized the water was brackish, no longer fresh.
The sound of the river got louder and he thought he could hear waves in the distance crashing against a shore. He was moving at tremendous speed now. When the first wave of salty water hit him with force and drenched his body he finally opened his eyes.
He sat up as the raft was propelled even faster. He looked out into a vast expanse of distant horizon and not so distant shoreline.
Podcast http://bit.ly/2och5LE Currently discussing the JFK Assassination.