I dreamed I was dead. My friend was dead, too, only she didn't know it. She still tried to do things in the physical world. She stepped into the elevator. I did too, to keep her company. Her spirit moved as if she still breathed. I had stopped all that. I was dead and knew it. We both remembered her little daughter was still on the roof alive. Terry frantically tried to press the up button. I could get there faster, because I knew I was dead. I passed through the elevator wall. That worked extremely well. I was encouraged. I flew up through rooms and ceilings at an angle allowing me to reach the little toddler directly. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Going where doors and stairs would take me was no longer necessary. I had the power of speedy arrival. The tiny toddler played on the flat roof of our tenement building while I hovered protectively above, wondering. What on earth could I do now, if the tiny girl tried to fly?
