Story Game Chapter One

Story Game Introduction
I have a recurring dream that started in the 1970s. It is night and eerie music is playing, and I am flying a bizarre helicopter. No, not flying, more like floating, drifting in the ether of subconscious whispers, an undertow of memories long buried. The hum of rotors, the pulse of engines, these are the heartbeats of forgotten nights. Liberty, that lady of stone and torch, she is there, barely there, a specter, a signpost on this journey inward. What does she want? What do I want?
The music, it weaves through the fabric of the dream, a thread of melody, dissonant, strange, familiar. A lullaby of unease, a dirge of lost days. Who am I in this dream? A pilot, a passenger, an observer? The helicopter, it is me, it is my mind, my thoughts, pieced together, barely holding, always moving. Up and down, round and round. The 1970s, a decade of change, of flux, of disquiet. My youth, my past. So many fragments, so many shadows. They haunt me, they shape me.
Falling, I am falling, through the dark, through the dream, through myself. The water, the abyss, it rises to meet me, to swallow me whole. But I wake, always wake, on the edge of understanding, on the brink of revelation. Cold sweat, pounding heart, the remnants of the dream cling to me, a shroud of unease.
What does it mean? Why do I return? Someday, perhaps, I will understand. Someday, the dream will reveal its truth. Until then, I drift, I dream, I seek.