I'm showing my grandmother Jurassic Park for the first time, we watch it on a television screen, I am caught up in the action unfolding on screen, and thinking that the actors are performing incredibly subtle and powerful performances. The scene is a airplane, large with everyone walking around as though it were the lobby of an expensive hotel, a girl talks on a phone arguing with her sister or room mate back home about which music they've traded or lost or whatever. It pans to the right and as it does so I enter the frame, leaving my grandmother behind in the living room. The plane is merely gliding now guided alone by the reigns of inertia, presumably to its doom, yet nobody cares and I am only a little uneasy. I soon notice as I enter the cockpit, that the plane has become quite diaphanous and apparently has turned into clouds shuttling through the air. I sit on a cloud bench behind the pilots and look around at the others, they realize the crash is inevitable, but they don't let it get them down and chat amiably with each other. After a while of this the plane begins to slow, almost to a stop and everyone looks at each other with the inevitability of the situation on their lips, but say nothing as the clouds on which we sit suddenly begin to drop down horizontally, still supporting our weight, taking the slightest of pauses as we reach the beautiful moment of apex, in that instant I am filled with erotic terror, but after it I delight in the sensation of free fall as we plummet into the whirling steam burgeoning out of a volcano at incredible speed. Exhilarating, and good for the heart. Weighing nothing, I wake up in thick gravity.
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