Dead Trees | Dream Journal

October 24-25, 2020:

I.

It is harvest-time, and Amanda and I are riding in a wagon, heading up Route 127 to Carlyle in inky darkness. A full, mellow moon is lining everything in light. We draw close to figures walking southward, and as our lantern light shines upon their faces, I can see that they are Black men, weary from their working in the fields. Somehow I know that they are sharecroppers. We finally arrives at my parents' home, and we meet them in the dark backyard under the full October moon.

II.

Olivia and I are climbing up a mountain that looks like it was ripped straight out of a vividly colorful video game based on Adventure Time. This is Slime Mountain, and we are climbing up it together, surmounting obstacles and adversaries as we work our way to the top.

III.

Amanda and I are assassins. The current president is staying at a hospital in St. Louis and we have been tasked with assassinating him. We disguise ourselves as doctors and make our way into his room. We push him onto the ground, and I sit on his diaphragm until he can't breathe in anymore. Once we have finished our work, we sneak away, riding down elevators with real doctors who are none the wiser. We work our way through a series of adjoining hotel-like hospital suites until we are able to board the Metrolink and escape.

October 12-13, 2020:

People who cannot serve other people in meaningful ways are disappearing. They just disappear -- as if they have been sucked away to Heaven -- like it's The Rapture. Because of this, people are desparetely trying to help one another in various, small ways, but when they cannot think of new ways to help -- or, when the help they are providing is not really useful -- they disappear.

I am listening to an evening news report out of St. Louis where the reporters explain that Kansas City is experiencing rolling blackouts. I know that this is because there are no longer enough people in that region to man the power plants, and they are failing. I also know that what is happening is accelerating as it creeps east, and the blackouts will be following.

I find myself inside a collossal laundromat, with rows and rows of washers and dryers. The whiteness is staggering. I watch two people, trading favors to one another, and one of these people falters -- the realization of what is about to happen dawns on their face right before they instantly disappear.

I am outside my parents' home and the shapes of the trees are black against the intensely vibrant purples, reds, and oranges of an October sky. The sun has just set in the East. I am looking at the eastern sky at sunset, watching a passenger plane slowly plummet from the sky, empty of pilots and passengers.

tags: apocalyptic, death, sunset, plane

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