I was traversing housetops with Dan and his brother Mike. The houstops were connecting points on high mountains and they were themselves high as mountains with ground far below. The path stretched out before us for many miles and was an unbroken path; wherever a roof ended a plank or beam connected it to the next one. We came to one that was connected by a synthetic-type rubber trough maybe two feet wide and seven feet long. I could hardly imagine trying to cross it. My thought was to sit on it and inch across slowly. I think Dan and Mike were trying to decide how to cross as well. Suddenly Dan said, “Oh, watch this,” and taking two running steps jumped towards the other roof. Before I could even register that he had jumped, he fell short of the other roof and disappeared from view. In the instant he jumped, Mike must have too because suddenly he was gone and I had a fleeting vision of him also falling just short of the opposite roof. I fell backwards too exhausted to figure out which emotion to address first. In an instant I had lost both my brother and husband. I wondered faintly why I hadn’t heard either one scream. Just as the horrible truth washed over me, Dan appeared on the other rooftop saying, “Tracey, we made it. You have to jump from the wing to the propeller.” Mike was next to him. I thought to myself- is there a plane down there or flying around or what? I didn’t really want to jump after the scare I’d just had so I went across my way and the boys helped me to my feet on the other side.
Really wierd right?