From the Strange, Weird Land of my Dreams

The fortress was on a cliff overlooking a rocky bay. 300 feet below, waves crashed onto the shore, leaving a milky froth that smoked and spewed. 

The rampart walls had little opening for archers to shoot flaming arrows out. But that is an aside. 

I'm scared of heights. Terrified, is a better description. 

I was crouched, knees bent, looking down at the waves crashing far beneath me. 

I was crouched, as I said, knees bent. On the OUTSIDE, my back to the wall. Sweating in terror. Holding on for dear life. Not with my hands. 

My BACK to the wall, pressed into it. My feet resting on two half foot long bricks protruding out of the fort's wall. 

In my hands a fucking pressure cooker. Which I'm washing, scrubbing, removing the grease, using rain water flowing down a gutter. 

Using both hands i throw the now cleaned cooker over my shoulder, up across the wall, and hear it plonk perfectly into place. 

I smile in relief and then fall. The ocean rushes up to swallow me.

I'm piss terrified and feel my bladder open loose.

Eyes snap open. Need to pee.

Dream over. 3:13 a.m.