At one point during the flight, I had a dream. I dreamed about the moment I burned when I was a kid.
In that dream, I could feel the pain as the flames engulfed my left arm and cheek. I could smell the stench of torched flesh, my flesh. I could hear the boiling plastic as it stuck to my skin and the screaming of the onlookers as I tried to crawl out of that pit.
I woke up and realized it was just a dream and that I was on a plane and that I had no one to talk to. So I sobbed quietly.
It’s been 27 years. Why am I still burning?