I am standing on the edge of the rooftop of a light green concrete building, outside the safety railing. When I look down, I can see everything below.
Looking down, I see light gray stainless steel clothes-drying racks extending from every floor. All the clothes hanging out to dry are white, fluttering in the wind, layer upon layer. From above, the ground is invisible; all I can see are the swaying white shirts, floating in the breeze. It feels as if I, too, might turn into a white piece of clothing and drift away with the wind.
My foot stepped off the edge of the building, and as if I knew this was just a dream, I didn't fall. Instead, the wind lifted me, and I floated gently, drifting through the layers of white shirts, slowly descending toward the ground.