• He looked at the sky, so many years he had been asleep and he was finnally seeing the world again. It had changed over the years, but it was the sky he remembered, save for the strange metal birds that now floated through it. How did they get into the air if they were made of metal? How would they fly if they weighted so much? What were the secrets behind their magic? Were they created from some magic materials or, maybe they were something else. Many years he wondered their secrets and many years he concluded less and less. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe he would never learn their secrets and take flight of his own. Maybe the coma had addled his brain. Perhaps he should go and buy a computer. In his day there weren't anythings called "Home computers, Laptops, or Cellular Phones." He was after all, just an old man who had been gone for many years off in a dream land, a land where his nightmares became real and his imagination was the sole god and creator.