Dream Journal: It’s the end of the world as we know it.

I hear vague murmuring as I come out of a deep sleep. The more awake I become, the more recognizable the words are.

“You were doing that weird mumbling thing in your sleep,” Brian says. He often starts talking to me before I’m completely awake. I’ll wake up, and he’ll be in the middle of a conversation of which I missed the first half. I give him what I imagine is the blankest stare, and he laughs at me.

“Huh?” It almost comes out as a yell. I will never be a morning person. I check my phone to discover it’s only 7:30 in the morning. It’s Sunday. Why the hell am I awake right now?

“You were talking in your sleep again.” I remember now. The person I’m sleeping next to is a morning person, and right now I hate that about him.

Okay, hate is a strong word. Right now, I strongly dislike that about him. I roll over and face the wall. It’s Sunday, I had what I would consider a nightmare, and it’s Easter. For God’s sake, can I go back to sleep?!

“At least you didn’t fart this time,” he says.

“I was having the weirdest dream.” And I suddenly remember what I was dreaming about. “I think we’ve been watching too much Walking Dead…”

The Big Bang Theory is interrupted by an emergency news segment. This is the part where I would normally toss an “F” word at the TV because I despise the news; but, for some reason, I pay attention this time. The newscaster appears on the screen, and it suddenly goes black. Every light in my two bedroom apartment goes out. One of my cats takes off running across the living room. There are shouts coming from the street outside my window, but I can’t hear what’s being said. At this point, all I’m wondering is why the power has gone out on a beautiful day like today.

I move toward the window to see what the commotion is about, but before I can get there, Brian comes out of the bedroom.

“I’m not sure you want to see what’s out there,” he warns. He holds up his phone like that should answer the questions that must be written right on my forehead. Now I’m confused and worried, and I’m not sure which emotion should come first. I adjust the blinds just a hair so that I can see out into the street.

There is nothing but chaos. People are running in every direction. There are kids screaming for their parents, parents screaming for their kids, dogs barking at all of the strangers surrounding them, adults running down the street pulling others after them. There are a few cars attempting to drive down the road, and they aren’t even worried about running over the crazed pedestrians. They’re just driving. I don’t even have to see their faces to see that they’re just as panicked as everyone that’s on foot. Everyone is trying to get away, but from what? I can’t tell.

The bright blue sky has turned ebony. There’s no smell of rain or sounds of an impending thunderstorm, but things are not how they were a half hour ago. The dark clouds are dancing in mean circles above us, but all I hear are the shouts from the people in the street.

“Where do we go? What do we do? What are we even running from?” I’m running around my apartment in a frenzy now. I’ve run to the closet for my backpack, and I’m blindly stuffing clothes inside of it. I’m yelling at Brian from the bedroom. “I think I can get Bubbles to stay in my backpack, and we have that pet carrier for Blossom. I don’t know if I’ll have room to pack cat food! Oh my god. Where are we going to go?”

He just stares at me, and I realize I’m asking the worst questions. He doesn’t know any more than I do. He’s been in the apartment with me all morning. He also has no idea what everyone is running from, or why the sky looks like it might swallow us up at any moment. I stop what I’m doing.

“We could go to a hotel,” I say hopefully.

“I don’t think it will do any good. And the cats…”

There’s a loud bang from somewhere outside. The whole building shakes, and the ceiling fan falls right out of the ceiling and onto the bed directly beneath it. This is when I realize that I might have to leave my pets behind, and I lose my mind all over again.

Back in reality, Brian is staring at me like I’m an idiot.

“You want to know the weirdest part?” I ask him. “The first thing I saw in the street, in my dream, was a tiger.” He laughs at me again.

“Yep, definitely too much Walking Dead!”

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