Briefly, so as to not take from the content, part of what I’d like to do with this site is record dreams. I used to do it by hand in the way back, and I always like looking back at the subconscious theatre’s greatest hits for two reasons. First, is obviously to analyze what the goddamn hell some of those nuances were in the back/foreground, which can happen weeks after the dream, wherein most cases it’s been forgotten. And secondly, to cherrypick those same nuances and spin them into prophecy so I can keep my iron-fist clamped over my zealous blood cult before they can have a single independent thought. Alright, only the first one, and the second one, well, one can dream… literally!

So this one starts in real life, where I had the rare opportunity to do my best ‘lazy piece of shit’ impression, as the circumstances afforded me an unforeseen afternoon nap. The setting was somewhere the sun shone brightly, and there was a massive building on the street I was on that I knew was a hotel that my son and I were staying at. It was tropical in nature and architecture, somewhere overseas, where I’ll never go because I’m either not interested to visit, or it only exists in my head. We’re there for our own reasons, and while he was busy with his kid stuff, I was taking in the sights solo.

I remember spending time making conversation with people my subconscious compiled from data fragments scattered throughout my brain. They came and went, some longer than others, all of which I got to know or thought I did, although neither was true a moment after they faded into that void outside the dreamscape. Satisfied, I decide to head back to the hotel to see if I can squeeze in some greasy hotel room porn before I have to continue my role as parent / legal guardian. Hey, not all thoughts in dreams have to come from the deep down!

Nearly there, there’s a massive flash of white light, who’s source was seen in the horizon an instant before I was blinded. In that moment I remember vividly assuming cataclysm and doubled over to hold my breathe and pinch my nose shut. There was no way I was going out like those poor saps in Pompeii, except maybe that one caught masturbating (look it up). The point is, I was only going to fill my lungs once with that searing air, and that would be for when my particles are torn from each other. Overlooking the fictional resort was a mountain, green with abundant, rampant life. From it cascaded what was first thought to be a landslide, which turned out to be a shockwave emitted from the source of the flash. It slammed into us, blasting windows and rolling cars and sending people off their feet. The concussive wave throbbed in my ears, and as deafness set on, a thick tide of black clouds (or smoke) was being drawn over us. I charged into the hotel.

Just inside and already the outside world was consumed by shear pitch. The lights inside were flickering and my hearing returned for a moment, although I couldn’t hear anything other than ambient noise. I called my son’s name, and waited a moment before I heard a reply from far down the hall from the lobby. Just as my deafness returned, the power failed and I was running almost completely without senses until I felt him crash into me. Somehow, I just knew it was him, and I pushed us through a crush of panicked bodies trying aimlessly to find a way out… or whatever. Back outside, the scene was no longer black, but a colourless version of early morning, a dawn with no sun. And not only were we alive, I got to wake up from this bullshit and appreciate my life with wifi, microwave dinners, celebrity scandals… you know, for 5 minutes before I take it all for granted again.