“Mista ...mista, you okay?” Those were the first and only words I heard coming through the bluesy fog of a dreamlike sleep. But my nightmare had just begun.
The music at the bar had been loud, so loud you could hardly hear the person talking to you. Was I still at the bar? Did I pass out? But there was no music and I was on my back. I was outside, cold, there was rain on my face.
“Mista, help is comin’, just lay still ..you be okay.”
Huh, wait a minute ...where am I? Oh, s**t, no, this didn’t happen ...oh, my God!