The Bean

As I drove into Chicago I heard on the radio that I was entering the murder capital of the United States. This negative news didn't bother me at all because I was going to see the bean.

Here are some photos of the sculpture Cloud Gate, nicknamed by the people of Chicago as The Bean.

As I stood taking those photos the knowing came upon me. Reality is a reflection of a reflection of a reflection bleeding off into the infinite and finite. The dream burned brighter in me than it had in years. Then the dark vision filled me with dread. People are going to die, I must get out of this city. For years I've had a vision of a railroad bombing in America. Maybe that's what was going to happen. I know it won't happen on the East or West coast. Somewhere towards the middle of the USA.

I had trouble getting out of the parking garage, I couldn't get the parking garage to take my credit card. I was putting it in upside down and backwards. I was in the broken mirror universe, so very close to the spirit world. I got out of the parking garage and tried to get out of the city.

I pulled into busy streets of Chicago and made one wrong turn after another getting more lost with each turn.

"I'm in the BROKEN MIRROR UNIVERSE, I must do the reverse of what I'm seeing!"

I made two turn against the puppet masters pulling my strings from the other side of death and then I heard two gunshots. I knew two people had died. The broken mirror universe shattered and I was back in this universe.

I could name drop here but I won't. I won't use the dead that way. The murderer had taken a child and it was soon all over the radio. The guilt set in. I had failed again.

There is never enough good in the world as the evil swallows it up. All my fondest wishes had been granted. I had a grand daughter and a grand son, no man could know a greater gift.
I had failed. I found my way out of Chicago. I had failed.

I drove into the night.

I had failed.

I drove onto the endless road.

I had failed.

A thousand angels flew behind me.

I had failed.

A billion dreams shattered before me.

If only I had made those last two turns.

The Demon of the Night jumped on my window.

"I no longer believe in demons of my own mind. I' am a being of pure light and you are nothing!"

The Demon exploded into embers and flew off behind me and behind me flew ten thousand angels.

"I'm coming Denver, Grandpa is coming. I'll be there for your first birthday."

I drove into the night past the Dells in Wisconsin. Monsters fueled by imagination melted off trucks and cars and flung by invisible hands at my windshield. I turned them all into rose petals.

"I'm coming Denver, Grandpa is coming."

An army of hell that I had created with my own mind came towards me.

I turned them into butterflies.

"I'm coming Denver, Grandpa is coming."

A hundred thousand angels flew behind me and one whispered in my ear.

"Time to sleep."

All the angels flew away and I was on my own. I pulled over at the next motel.

The next day I played with my grand son Denver Vollrath. It was a good birthday party the following day.