Saturday, December 6, 2014

310

I dream of disaster.

Every night I have dreamed of disaster, global, catastrophic, unavoidable.  Invariably, the military is deployed, but even from my puny vantage point on the ground, I can see that it will be futile.  The people escaping with belongings stuffed into cars is also futile.  Destruction will be complete.

I wake to my alarm's soft chimes, increasing in volume if I ignore the call to the waking world.  It is hard to wake, and I struggle to the surface, still tired.

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