You see, I had this dream...
August 22nd, 2009
9:29 am
We were in an airport but I can’t remember where we were going. It was nighttime because I could see out of the windows and the sky was dark and there were stars. I don’t think we were going anywhere because all I can remember is that very distinct feeling of waiting.
I hate waiting.
Which is sort of a shame, because I guess life is just waiting. The whole thing. Waiting until it’s over and you get to see what happens next. I guess it’s the moments that you forget it’s waiting that you can be happy.
There were a few people I know surrounding me, but no one close. An ex boyfriend, a temporary roommate, no one that I loved.
Then it happened.
Suddenly people started getting possessed. I think it was only one or two, but my roommate was one of them. Here eyes went bad-Photoshop-yellow as she repeated to us that the world was going to end. And it wasn’t going to end peacefully. It was going to end in a fiery, burning mess of chaos. And that we were all going to die.
She also set a time limit on this, 4:30 Sunday. It was Friday night.
I immediately went through my head to remember if I was seeing my parents by then, but no, I was visiting after work Sunday night. I contemplated if this was a legitimate enough excuse to skip work and come home, but I never did.
There was a bit of pandemonium at the airport. People were running around and I was following. They wanted to get somewhere safe, but it was useless.
Eventually we left.
Later I asked her, my roommate, if she thought any of this was real. Was this a hallucination or a trick? She just responded: “No, you are all going to die.”
I had the strange idea that not everyone was going to die, just most of us, the way that she looked at each one like she knew some terrible secret. I couldn’t make eye contact.
Apparently a lot of people around the world had this exact same possession. Their eyes had gone yellow as they professed the end of the world. They were all changed as well, doomsayers, confident of everyone’s demise. And yet for some reason they were not worried for themselves.
There were cults that arose. Paper like tents popped up everywhere offering their own brand of salvation. But this was kept quiet, as the government was doing all they could to keep things down. Three quarters of the population didn’t know about the apocalyptic prophecy. The ones that did were huddled in churches or listening to quacks that thought they could make some money in the process.
I dumped everything I had from my pockets. I wasn’t sure whether I believed everything or not, but either way, who needed money.
The end time came quickly.
The funny thing is that I landed myself with people I hardly knew. I guess the wandering around constantly checking my watch had gotten me in some unfamiliar part of the city.
My friend said that a group was meeting in his apartment and that I should come along. I told him that it would be better if we gathered in the basement of a new building. He told me that it didn’t matter. Either the world was going to end or it wasn’t. Where we were for it was negligible.
People started filtering into the small room. It was on the third story and overlooked a good chunk of the city. We all sat around in a circle with the television taking one place. It was turned off and on top of it was a clock. The hands were getting dangerously close to reading 4:30.
I got up for a moment to call my parents. All I got was voicemail. I wondered if they had heard about the prophecy or not. I think I was absolutely too nervous to cry.
I was nervous, the light kind, that feeling in your stomach like the time between when you drop something and it shatters on the ground.
I hate that waiting time.
I sat back down and tried to breathe in and out.
For a while there was silence in the circle.
Then an older woman piped up. “Let’s guess all the ways we think it could happen.”
She was obviously of the opinion that it was going to happen. We all were.
“No,” I told her, anger lining my words, “No, we need to think about all the things we remember about living.” I said it like we were already dead. The minute hand was dangerously close to the half hour mark.
“We need to think about the color blue, broken book bindings, the smell of grass on a hillside…”
“I remember,” another old woman continued, “When I was a young girl and I used to wear dresses with sequins that moved in the light when I danced.”
And as everyone listed what it was like to be alive for them I got incredibly sad because life is full of all these little things that are absolutely wonderful that you will really miss when they’re gone forever.
I woke up before we ever got to 4:30.
9:29 am
We were in an airport but I can’t remember where we were going. It was nighttime because I could see out of the windows and the sky was dark and there were stars. I don’t think we were going anywhere because all I can remember is that very distinct feeling of waiting.
I hate waiting.
Which is sort of a shame, because I guess life is just waiting. The whole thing. Waiting until it’s over and you get to see what happens next. I guess it’s the moments that you forget it’s waiting that you can be happy.
There were a few people I know surrounding me, but no one close. An ex boyfriend, a temporary roommate, no one that I loved.
Then it happened.
Suddenly people started getting possessed. I think it was only one or two, but my roommate was one of them. Here eyes went bad-Photoshop-yellow as she repeated to us that the world was going to end. And it wasn’t going to end peacefully. It was going to end in a fiery, burning mess of chaos. And that we were all going to die.
She also set a time limit on this, 4:30 Sunday. It was Friday night.
I immediately went through my head to remember if I was seeing my parents by then, but no, I was visiting after work Sunday night. I contemplated if this was a legitimate enough excuse to skip work and come home, but I never did.
There was a bit of pandemonium at the airport. People were running around and I was following. They wanted to get somewhere safe, but it was useless.
Eventually we left.
Later I asked her, my roommate, if she thought any of this was real. Was this a hallucination or a trick? She just responded: “No, you are all going to die.”
I had the strange idea that not everyone was going to die, just most of us, the way that she looked at each one like she knew some terrible secret. I couldn’t make eye contact.
Apparently a lot of people around the world had this exact same possession. Their eyes had gone yellow as they professed the end of the world. They were all changed as well, doomsayers, confident of everyone’s demise. And yet for some reason they were not worried for themselves.
There were cults that arose. Paper like tents popped up everywhere offering their own brand of salvation. But this was kept quiet, as the government was doing all they could to keep things down. Three quarters of the population didn’t know about the apocalyptic prophecy. The ones that did were huddled in churches or listening to quacks that thought they could make some money in the process.
I dumped everything I had from my pockets. I wasn’t sure whether I believed everything or not, but either way, who needed money.
The end time came quickly.
The funny thing is that I landed myself with people I hardly knew. I guess the wandering around constantly checking my watch had gotten me in some unfamiliar part of the city.
My friend said that a group was meeting in his apartment and that I should come along. I told him that it would be better if we gathered in the basement of a new building. He told me that it didn’t matter. Either the world was going to end or it wasn’t. Where we were for it was negligible.
People started filtering into the small room. It was on the third story and overlooked a good chunk of the city. We all sat around in a circle with the television taking one place. It was turned off and on top of it was a clock. The hands were getting dangerously close to reading 4:30.
I got up for a moment to call my parents. All I got was voicemail. I wondered if they had heard about the prophecy or not. I think I was absolutely too nervous to cry.
I was nervous, the light kind, that feeling in your stomach like the time between when you drop something and it shatters on the ground.
I hate that waiting time.
I sat back down and tried to breathe in and out.
For a while there was silence in the circle.
Then an older woman piped up. “Let’s guess all the ways we think it could happen.”
She was obviously of the opinion that it was going to happen. We all were.
“No,” I told her, anger lining my words, “No, we need to think about all the things we remember about living.” I said it like we were already dead. The minute hand was dangerously close to the half hour mark.
“We need to think about the color blue, broken book bindings, the smell of grass on a hillside…”
“I remember,” another old woman continued, “When I was a young girl and I used to wear dresses with sequins that moved in the light when I danced.”
And as everyone listed what it was like to be alive for them I got incredibly sad because life is full of all these little things that are absolutely wonderful that you will really miss when they’re gone forever.
I woke up before we ever got to 4:30.