August 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
I dreamed of a forced, intimate, family-by-family nuclear holocaust. My family was sent what looked to be a smoke detector, but it was a nuclear bomb. We gathered around it in folding chairs in the backyard of my childhood home. My family prayed. Suddenly I became unsure of myself and wondered if it was time to pull a deathbed confessional. Pascal’s Wager. But it was too late.
The bomb went off. I felt myself being hurled through a tunnel. I must be dead, I thought, but I’m still perceiving, still aware. That’s not good. That means there is some sort of afterlife, in which I case I am fucked.
I come to and I am lying in the grass in my hard. Debris is everywhere. I assume the rest of my family is dead. I army crawl to my driveway. Neighbors from my childhood emerge from the house across the street and rush to my side. Are you alright, they ask. Am I alright? I guess I am. Sure. Wow. Then slowly I see the rest of my family crawling from the backyard. We’ve survived, somehow.
I ask for my laptop. It is produced. I get on Facebook and leave my status as “Survived the nuclear holocaust. Now let me cum on your face!” A girl I went to high school with, now quite obese and living probably in a trailer somewhere, began posting hundreds of close-up photos of her face, like an invitation or something.
I remembered I had a play I needed to be in at a local school. I rushed off to perform, still dusty from the blast.