Rock Slide

They key with a rock slide is position. Your position, that is. Relative the rock slide, you will want (and need) to be above it. If you are below it, it is very unlikely that it will go well with you. It has never gone well for me to be below a rock slide.

I speak with the full experience of such things, as I am currently speaking from the middle of such a thing. The rocks are sliding and I am in their midst. For now, I ride on top of a large slab, as a member of the pack, you could say. It would be a stretch, but, even upon close examination, it would be a difficult task to differentiate me from the various inanimate objects that were swirling every which way around me.

For one, we were all the same dusty hue. The hue itself was not particularly unique to dust, but it was the dust that had imparted the hue to me; hence, dusty hue. I would have described it as light brown in situations of less importance.

For another thing, we were all headed in the same direction. There was a steep cliff and, without a doubt, soon we would topple from the top to the bottom. As I said, position is key.

These similarities with rocks ended when it came to consciousness. I feel more conscious than I ever have before. I am thinking more quickly and more clearly than I would have ever dared to believe was possible.

We flew together. In unison we ejected ourselves from the slope that we had traversed with such camaraderie. The moments of floating were sublime; a final fleeting brotherhood of varying levels of awareness and intelligence. The same dusty hue. The same dusty destination. What more could a man ask for his final moments than to be a grey-brown lump headed directly for a mountainside several thousand feet below, tumbling through the air together with a large number of othe