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Wednesday 14 November 2012

I had a Dream about the end of the World

I had a dream last night about the end of the world
No one realized the large fragments of the moon had already been destroyed
Which would sadly prove fatal
Also a young man whom I had known long ago was working in front of me
A large court room with the space of a large concert hall and a giant domed roof
The matter went south and my boss
For whatever reason turned homicidal
Perhaps the spores of doom had infected her mind as they would effect others
The I knew I sat in a circle my girl on one side and a gaggle of brazenly boasting good for nothings sitting across from me bragging about this merger of that of the anonymous steel skyscraper corporation at which they were employed
This all triggered by a simple question by myself "what is it you practice in there?"
My girl and I exchanged a look and then I was unfortunately exposed to a small procession of large Indian men all wearing orange and short for it was a hot day
Some random country of the middle-east had somehow been superimposed over one or the streets in the city in which I lived
And a friend who had not been a friend in years was with me
And the other who had been in the Court room though no longer the girl
Not my girl but another with curly hair who had seemed so engaged but now seemed much more ready to follow the other into a taxi away
But not before the Indian man was cornered by the three ogre-like men
Who oppressed him and gauged out one of his eyes
Next I knew was a parade although I knew not the cause
The Indian man the one who had been so cruelly assaulted had absented himself and there was only a small pool of blood splashed out under the light of the telegraph pole
It dried quickly as the revellers shouted and marched wearing long white tunics which rubbed over the orange sand of the ground in the twilight, whose sun passed quickly for soon the orange glow of the setting sun was replaced by torches
Many of those in the march
Wore masks with a grotesque and disproportionate ethnic face
Although it was more like one you'd see on one or those baby toy dolls
I witnessed it all an implored my friend call the police but our thoughts
And resolve to do right by the man who reappeared clutching his face with a bloody white rag was gone
Next despite distractions the end of the world continued
The moon fell out of the sky and into a soccer field which just incidentally was only a few hundred meters from where I stood
By all accounts the moon ought to have been many leagues across but it was no larger than a giants marble albeit dotted with craters and perfectly sphere
What remained of it shattered and the ground where it hit warped inwards like toffee
The next I remembered was a music video playing where people from a famous sitcom were singing or miming
They sat in tubs of full water
Their clothes all soaked and saggy in some kind of demented poetry
I then sat in my own tub
And lamented the fate of the Indian man
I imagined myself as the images on a plasma screen in a home I had never seen nor lived in
The wall paper was green and the cornices brown and wooden
It was likely in the inner city which as it would turn out was another puzzle
The dream ended when my neighbor who happened to be a musician of some renown almost caught me through the half open blinds half naked
And I do recall the absence of the moon triggered the worlds water to act haywire.
For without a moon there could be no tides my limited knowledge of science concurred with the immeasurably large body of water creeping over everything on the horizon
Like a tidal wave in slow motion that
I could not run from but could only sit and enjoy like a sunset