John was sleepy. No, not sleepy, he didn’t feel tired, but he kept waking up. Where was he? Everything was really bright. He was moving and becoming really disoriented. The lights kept getting brighter and then darker, he was having trouble processing information. He could hear a voice speaking, but what were they saying? It wasn’t making sense. Multiple what?

“Victim is a male in his mid 20’s” He heard the voice say. What victim? “We need to get him to surgery ASAP” was he in a hospital? Who was hurt? He couldn’t figure this out, he went to sigh in frustration when he realised he wasn’t breathing. Well, that’s not true, he was, sort of. Air was entering and exiting his lungs but he wasn’t doing the work. He began to panic as he realised there was a tube in his throat. Someone was holding a rubber mask over his face and squeezing a bag to effectively breathe for him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and leg. He was injured! He started to remember the fight with Eric and being stabbed and beaten. Wait a second, he was alive? On any normal day that would have killed him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his injuries, in fact, he would probably die in surgery. Did that girl from the park really save him? Or was that some weird hallucination?

The medical team jostled John about as they moved him from the gurney to the surgical table.

“You’ll have to wait outside, ma’am.” John heard one of them say. Ma’am? Who was there? Was it the girl from the park?

“The police have some questions for you.” He heard someone else say. John felt some discomfort as he could feel them changing the intubation tube running down his throat and replacing it with a mask feeding him anaesthetic to put him to sleep for the surgery.

“Well,” thought John, “at least this is kind of a nice way to die.” But John didn’t die, not yet anyway. Instead he found himself standing before the great dragon from his dream, Quetzalcoatl. John looked at his hands backward and forward trying to figure out if this was reality, a dream, or death death.

“Am I dead?” He asked out loud.

“No.” said the dragon.

“You can talk?” John asked slightly apprehensively.

“No.” said the dragon, “We cannot talk. But we can commune. Come have communion with us.”

“You mean like, crackers and juice?” asked John. His only context for the term “communion” was that time his grandma took him to church as a boy.

“We do not know what crackers and juice are.” Said the beast, “Come exist with us.” John put his hand on the serpents nose and felt it’s warm breath blow past him as it exhaled.

“Who’s… us?” John asked.

“We are the ever born. And ever born are we.” it said.

“Why am I dying?” John cut to the chase.

“You are not dying, you are living.” it said.

“But, why do I die over and over again?”

“So that you can be reborn.” said the dragon. “You are a new creation each day.”

“How do I get it to stop?” John asked in an exasperated tone.

“It does not stop. It only perfects.” Quetzalcoatl said.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, getting slightly angry.

“Today, you met perfection.” it said, “Just a taste.”

“I was kidnapped, beaten, and stabbed to within an inch of my life!” he yelled.

“Exactly” it said as it breathed out an immensely hot flame that consumed John instantly. John woke up in a hospital bed, his chest and leg aching and his head groggy and pounding. There was a nurse standing over him checking his IV drip.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” She said. John tried to speak, but he was still intubated. He gagged as he realised, and pulled the tube out of his throat.

“How… how long?” He whispered.

“You were in surgery for about 2 hours, and that was about 12 hours ago.” she said.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost 5 am” she said. And that was how John went more than 24 hours without dying.