An untimely slumber of labourers wake
Playing a newly released record of dreams
Like an old magnetic tape disc.
This dream faded with transparent patches
Filled with no hue or contrast.

It was a dark space with white gasses.
In a strangely fashioned way of laying
The baggage of the stomach made its way.
There was only one path to take.
The oesophagus, the road of the finely crushed.
The victims of the canines and the molars ascended.
Just as life has two crossroads, sometimes three.
These victims of greater good had to choose.

However, it is a fault to say that they chose a path.
As physics had already dictated the path.
The highway of trachea was its name.
It belonged to the ones of uncommon nature.
Those that the eyes cannot perceive, but only
The nose can sensually detect.
As these victims intruded a space they knew not.
The mortal verse rejected them.

Immediately the dream became reality.
A reality of choking and un-subconsciousness.
It was as if the mortal body was under the sea,
And left to breathe without aid.
The mind is a powerful tool…
At that moment there were seven seconds of void.
A single or less, a thought pondered.
“Am I going to die? Is this a dream?”