Turning Black

(Night before, I asked if we get an Angelic Host when born) I was outside, in the evening, holding onto some ropes (one in each hand), In the space of air floating around, but not, at the top of a high-rise building. I was scared, for if I let go, I would fall to my death. There was someone at the window of the building, making sure I was safe, but not pulling me in. I then saw that Matt Cedeno (or someone looking like him) had a black, and white scribbled painted platform I could stand on. I was … Continue reading Turning Black