End of the World Nightmare (7328-7333)

I once said that I enjoy apocalyptical end-of-world fiction. I sort of enjoy it.

I loved The Dog Stars by Peter Heller but because the language was so lovely and the protagonist was someone I could relate to. I only got five pages into The Road by Cormac McCarthy before I had to put it down and walk away forever.


I imagine it had to do with me just having had a baby and the two bullet imagery on page one was just too horrible to ponder in my hormone flooded state. But it is, by almost all accounts, a masterpiece.

But then again, most everyone loved Lonesome Dove and I found both the novel and the miniseries to be, well, not my cup of tea.


I just woke up from an exhausting night of post-apocalyptic dreaming. I had to tiptoe out of bed lest I wake the dog and have to walk him immediately. I had to write this down, not that it’s at all interesting.

Loony is impatient about dreams, unless it’s his turn to talk about what he dreamt about. I guess that’s one of the reasons I write. Here we go.


First of all, I was a man and I only had one young child. We were outside at a park and everyone (except us, or people who were holding onto something) floated 20 feet into the air and then dropped violently to the ground. I’m certain this imagery came from watching Man of Steel.

People were hurt and dying everywhere. I knew that this meant we would have to go into survival mode.

The boy was injured and needed to be stitched up. A woman was able to help us but she was addled with fear and I had to calm her down so she could function. Then I had to explain to the boy that we had to leave forever.

He was scared and resisted this news but I could see that looting had already begun and we needed to get a big truck, load up with supplies and leave.

I tried to talk the woman into coming with us but I couldn’t convince her that big cities were dangerous, we needed to go somewhere remote. She wanted to go to Florida.

I might have visited this website a few times. And I might have a touch of survivalist paranoia in me.

I might have visited this website a few times. And I might have a touch of survivalist paranoia in me. You can see by this map that Florida is not where you want to ride out the apocalypse.

I woke up in a feverish state, still planning, making lists, figuring out what we needed to stock up on, wondering where we would go. I had to get up and shake it off.

This post-apocalyptic stuff isn’t science fiction. There are refugees everywhere fleeing or trying to survive governments, war, famine, natural disaster, genocide and it’s happening right now.

Listen to the news and there is no shortage of suffering and people who are forced to leave it all behind and start over.


I feel so fortunate to enjoy this soft life of abundance and to live in a country that, while imperfect in so many ways, I’ve yet to fear the horrors that run rampant in other parts of the world.

Don't think I don't appreciate how decadent and privileged my life is, almost comically so. Not a day goes by where I don't think about it and thank my lucky stars.

Don’t think I don’t appreciate how decadent and privileged my life is, almost comically so with my crazy animals, coffee drinks and leisure. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about it and thank my lucky stars for being born into this life.

I need to focus on the sun that is rising in my window and put that long night behind me.

I am cutting some crap today.

I’m getting rid of a shelf in my office and just saying no to tchotchkies. I’m driving it down to the Vertical Fusion studio in Longmont. Soon all the studios will have something in them that came from my house.

9 thoughts on “End of the World Nightmare (7328-7333)

  1. Wow. Not only do I also have post-apocolyptic dreams, but I also have the Kenyan pots. I’d love to get rid of the former, but will keep the latter.

    My parents survived 2 wars and lost everything each time. We are, indeed, fortunate in so many ways! Count your blessings, and throw away everything else! 😉

    • You have little Kenyan pots? Really? Are they bound together like mine are? Does one have a little seahorse in it (added by me, later)?

      Growing up I had a neighbor named Chloe. Her parents and grandmother fled Burma to go to Salt Lake City. They started over from scratch. Her mother was a doctor and was fortunate enough to be able to continue practicing in the states.

      My mother’s family fled Vietnam with nothing, as well. Their stories are full of trauma and loss. They will never be the same.

      Yes, count the blessings and toss everything else out. Thank you for reading!

      • Yes, my pots are bound, exactly like yours. I would dare say that, if I did happen to have a seahorse in one, I would claim you as my long-lost twin.
        I’m sorry that your family has had experience starting over. In the midst of it, it is a terrifying ordeal, but it can be a wonderful thing, in the end! No doubt the Vietnamese in you has made you so exotic. I don’t want to be jealous, but I am!

        • It would have been as freaky as discovering we had identical copies of “The New Joys of Jello” and a cat whisker collection, like Loony and I found out in our courting days. It was meant to be.

    • Are you a mother? I think parenthood, especially when you have a newborn, gets you thinking about survival in a very real way. That feeling of being responsible for a helpless individual who will literally die without your care is transformative and terrifying, until you get used to it.

  2. Too funny about you and Lonny! I actually do have a cat whisker collection (from my younger days, and only from my favorite cat). If anyone thinks that’s overly sentimental or strange, I knew a guy who saved one of his newborn baby girl’s poop-filled diapers. There’s no explaining that one away.

Leave a Reply