……Did that bullet shot pass my head, or did it killed me, got to get back to my command, they can rebuild me; is that air cover overhead, or can it somehow be a neighbor’s car engine being revved, are these missiles just in my game systems, can all of twenty, twenty four be an escape from the reality of nineteen forty four, surely a shock or two has spontaneously changed my perspectives, my pneumonia and shortness of breath, could be bullet holes in my chest, a mother’s hug could be a priest whispering in my ear, giving me an anointing, a handgun could be merely a finger pointing. Mind over matter can create its own dimensions, I believe I’m with family at a cookout, but they could be Hitler’s henchmen.