Driving With Mr. Death
Couple of years ago, I had this dream about death. Death.
I was walking down a street in London in this dream, up it, actually, it was uphill. Saw Bono standing outside this cool car. Bono. Really. But as I walked up to him, he changed. Into an older guy. Silver-white hair. Cool looking. Long sorta linen suit. Southern. By the time I'd noticed the change, I already had my hand on the car door handle. So I had to get in, right?
Strapped myself in. And the guy turns to look at me, and shitmefuck, it wasn't Bono at all. Not at all. I was riding with Death. Him. The car was parked facing up the hill, this long cool Caddie-Roller kinda car. And he pushes in the clutch & lets the car start rolling backward, down the hill, fast. That feeling where you're strapped in, trapped inside something that's completely out of control, and you know what's coming. You can see it. And I knew that at the bottom of that hill was a cliff, and after that, a long way down, the ocean. But I can't get out of the seat-belt. And I start panicking.
And he just smiles as we pick up speed, enjoying it, that I'm losing it, and then... slips his foot off the clutch, shifts the car into gear... and off we go, forward. Smooth as that. Just to let me know he's got the wheel, got control.
So we're talking as we drive. Me & Death. It's cool out, he's got the window open. But all I can think about is... how do I get loose from this seat belt & harness, so I can jump out or something. As we're talking, he becomes aware that I know who he is - even though nobody else does. When they look in through the window, all they see is Bono. He's smiling... he likes this. But I'm aware of the bastard, who he really is. I can see his long white teeth. He tells me, "Nobody ever gets out. Alive." Honest to God, the guy cracks that kinda fuckin' cliche, in a dream. Pathetic, eh? He knows it, and he doesn't care. Laughs.
He's got one hand out the window on his side, breeze blowing in. He's letting it wiggle in the wind, you know, up & down, hand-swimming, and I know he's got a gun in it. I'm just trying to figure a way outta that car. Lemme out. That's my only thought. Frantic.
When he looks at me & says, "You know how most good men die?" And instantly, I see World War I. With trenches & fields & bombs & shit. See it like it's sprayed across the windshield. And I think, "No, I don't know how most good men die."
