It was my own mind drifting off.
Those dreams flooded into my head like someone opened up the Hoover Dam. I saw an army of white fighter jets approaching me.
My fortress was away. All that was there was my flying body without wings, jetpacks, or any external device that allowed me to be sheltered in the wild blue wonder.
Those sleek airplanes fired numerous rounds of bullets right at me. I tried strafing away, but I was grazed by their ammunition. I was stabbed so many times and I realized what was going on.
Those were arrow-shaped bullets that were wedged in my skin.
I descended several fathoms like I was Tom Petty’s most famous song at it’s logical extreme.
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 