Countless stars twinkled in the midnight sky, and the full moon cast a faint ethereal glow through the window. My friend Aaron and I sat glued to the television screen in front of us, our faces illuminated by its soft electronic light. Earlier we had rented the movie Natural Born Killers, and now from the screen there came a flood of superficial violence to which we were strangely attracted. Immersed in their own violent society, the movie's two outlaws spilled oceans of blood without a second thought. Now the villains had brutally murdered uncountable prison guards, and I was dimly aware of the movie's violence smothering my morality beneath a sea of crimson. Natural Born Killers became a deep, dark dream to me: the film's violence was meaningless, because it was only a specter, something that vanishes when a light is turned on.

     Finally the film came to a brutal end, and the credits began to roll. With an almost inaudible groan, Aaron stretched himself and got to his feet. “Would you like something to drink before you leave?” he asked me. I accepted a coke from his refrigerator, bid him farewell, and exited into the thick, warm darkness. Upon entering my car, I still couldn't think clearly, and my emotions were jumbled and confused. I stared at my wristwatch in the amber glow of my car's interior light, noting with surprise that it was already 2AM. After I extinguished the car light, my attention was drawn to the sky. My eyes slowly came into focus, and I saw that the void above me was speckled with an intricate tapestry of light.

     My spiritual being began to resurrect itself, until it seemed to hover silently above me like a ghost. Thinking again of the time, I started the car and drove toward my home. As I drove, I stared at the dirty asphalt road stretching out beneath my car, its covering of dust glowing eerily in the moonlight. Eventually, the hum and purr of the car's engine became dull, and I turned on the radio. The station was playing a Creedence song, and I immersed myself in the flurry of musical notes. As I listened to the radio, I was able to discredit the memory of Natural Born Killers, burying it deep in my mind. I drove on and on, and the road seemed to recycle itself endlessly so that I never made any forward progress through the night. On and on, endlessly, without end, no, I will never reach home.

     Suddenly, alternating shafts of red and blue light appeared ahead of me. As I neared the lights, I saw that police had closed down the entire highway and that rescue workers were scurrying about, each on a separate mission to achieve some larger goal. Full of curiosity, I eased my way to a stop directly in front of a state police cruiser. I opened the car door, and headed for the nearest police officer. Without emotion of any kind, the man told me that there had just been a terrible traffic accident in the ravine below and that the road was closed so a hospital helicopter could land to airlift out the victim.

     By this time, other cars began to arrive on the accident scene, and their occupants burst forth into the darkness to find out what the trouble was. In a trance, I walked across the silvery road and looked over, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rescue effort. About thirty feet below me was a small pickup truck crumpled in upon itself like a discarded ball of tin foil. Its headlights still shone dimly, and occasionally illuminated the face of one of the rescuers. The entire ravine was alive with amber flashlight beams, and as I watched their erotic dance I could hear the chopper land nearby.

     I stared intently at the accident below. Finally, the rescuers pried a man of about forty from the wreckage, and dragged him up the side of the cliff. They laid him on the road, and I could see him clearly: his eyes were wide open in an expression of terror, and his black hair was matted with blood. He lay there, regarding the sky with his frozen eyes, until a paramedic suited him in a body bag and zipped it up. A flood of emotion and realization tore through my gut like a knife. Watching through my own frozen eyes, I saw the chopper take in the now-shapeless figure of the man and lift off into the sky, beating relentlessly at the night with blades of steel.

     The road was finally opened, and I drove on toward home, clenching the steering wheel with sweaty hands. In less than an hour I had lost my childhood world: I was no longer able to distance myself from death and violence. I wished I could wrap my former innocence around me once more, close my eyes, and resurrect my naive dream.