The end of a dream a day or so ago, sticking with me since it seems somewhat
parabolic, variant on the typical flying theme.
I'm walking along the side of a long wide queue of people walking toward the exit of someplace like the well restored Grand Central or the poorly done Penn Station. I'm in a dominican nuns habit and one or more suits (not empty) are also walking besides me out of line.
Both I and the suit(s) levitate off the ground and go horizontal headed for the art deco doors. After negotiating the doors we go to an elevation of about 60 feet and head up the urban canyon. The flight is effortless and without an apparent power source.
Having gone some distance, we pass a series of high tension wires at first apparently without difficulty. Quite some ways past them I look at my hand and see that is badly charred. Not just burned but charcoalized with the palm and insides of the fingers completely gone.
At first I try to minimize the damage or think if, this being a dream, this "reality" can't be retracted. It can't though, and also I notice the suits have (apparently) been unscathed and are aware of my injury and at this point I wake up.