My parents brought me to America when I was 9 years old. They spoke very little English, knew very little about most things American, and were, true to Jewish form, intimidated by most of it.

Young and sensitive as I was, I took ownership of their fear. I tried to shield them from it as much as possible. I translated for them. I called the gas company for them. I filled out school forms myself and went to my own parent-teacher conferences. I got straight A’s and never got into trouble so that they wouldn’t get unnecessary calls from my school.

I followed the rules. Graduated with honors. Avoided anything dangerous. Made only a handful of friends—the trustworthy kind. Stayed home on Friday nights. Got drunk only once.

Until one night, fast asleep and deep into a very realistic dream, I discovered the Golden Slide.

I was a new driver and proud owner of a brand-new pre-owned 2003 Ford Taurus station-wagon affectionately known as Johnny. (How Johnny got his name is a story for another time).

Johnny and I were driving to the mall. My mom—an excited passenger in the seat next to me. I was determined to show her a good time. “Look at us Mom—just driving through town. Look how far we’ve come…” But then, we entered the parking lot.

Shit.

For those not familiar with parking lots in Brooklyn, they are dark and dirty, have multiple levels, very low ceilings, parking spaces that are too close together, and are almost always filled to capacity. 15 years later and I still hate parking lots.

Well, there it was, the fear in the pit of my stomach. And just like that, in true dream form, we passed by the fear-provoking portion of looking for a spot and parking the car, and proceeded directly to the panic-inducing portion of exiting the parking lot via the tollbooth and ramp. Mother still sitting right beside me, happy as a clam, completely oblivious of the panic dawning upon me. Because, even in my dreams I’m just so good at shielding her from it.

We drive up to the tollbooth. Turns out, when you dream about exiting a parking lot, the tollbooth attendant asks you to step out of the car. “Don’t worry Mom, I got this. Everything is under control.”

And then, the real doozy:

The ramp is not a ramp at all. This ramp leading out of the 3rd story of said parking lot is a steep and seemingly endless slide.

I step forward to take a closer look and discover a glorious slide made of solid gold. It sparkles is the sunlight of a beautiful summer day outside of the dark, dirty Brooklyn parking lot. The slope of this slide is really steep. Obviously we’d have to abandon Johnny. Only one rider at a time, please. Yes, this is the only way out.

Shit.

“Ok Mom, no problem. We got this. You go first.”

My head is racing. She MUST go first. She’s probably shitting her pants already she’s so scared. She’ll never get on this thing alone. Only way is if I get her on. Hell, I might have to push her or she’ll never get out of this parking lot. Why did I bring her here? Now she’s stuck here and it’s all my fault. I had to be adventurous. Driving. Madness. what was I thinking?How does a place like this not have another exit? Stop it, Maayan. Focus. You need to get your mom out of here. How in the world are you going to get her out of this?

But, Mom is cool as a cucumber.

“No, no. I’m fine. You go first,“ she says.

Shit.

She’s gonna fight me on this. She’s gonna tell me she’ll follow and then she won’t. She’ll get scared and back out. Damn. I can’t force her. How can I force her? Think, Maayan, think.

“Maayan, I’m fine. I got this. You go first. Don’t worry about me. Go.”

This has to be a dream. She never said those words before. Ever. Wait, this is a dream? Of course! This is a dream!

I sit. I look back. She waves. She looks happy. Confident. Definitely a dream!

I look forward. It is a steep, sparkly slope down.

Shit.

New fear. MY fear. There’s a reason why I never rode a roller-coaster.

But it sparkles. It’s gorgeous. I inch forward and let go. And, down it goes, picking up speed, faster and faster. Mom will be terrified on this thing. But it keeps going, seemingly forever, down, down, down. The sky is peerfectly clear and sunny. What a perfect day to be on this ride. I bet it wouldn’t be quite this spectacular on a cloudy day. Wasn’t it raining when we were driving in? I can’t remember. I wonder how much longer until it gets to the bottom?

But then, all at once, the steep downward slope changes direction and the slide curves up in a 90 degree angle. With all the momentum I’ve gathered on the way down I shoot up the slide, straight towards the sky. And just as suddenly, the slide comes to an abrupt end as I continue to rise up higher and higher into the sky. The slide grows smaller and smaller as it falls farther and farther away, until I can’t see it at all. The sky is so clear and surrounds me so completely that it doesn’t even feel like I’m in motion anymore. I’m just there.

Just me and the sky.

And everything

is

OK.