A Quarter 'Til Extinction

    The bustling streets of New York City served as the backdrop to our unplanned detour, leading my sister and me to the doorstep of an elderly couple's house. As we entered their abode, a sense of unease settled upon my shoulders, for I knew all too well the importance of respecting one's dwelling. But my sister, oblivious to such concerns, carelessly trampled through their sanctum, stoking the flames of my frustration.

     Voicing my discontent, I admonished her for her lack of regard, demanding that she recognize the significance of our intrusion. She shrugged off my words, nonchalantly suggesting that I inquire if we could seek shelter within the confines of this unfamiliar dwelling. Exasperated, we stepped outside into the cityscape, where the twin towers loomed in the distance, casting long shadows over our uncertain future.

     News of an impending catastrophe reached our ears—an apocalyptic comet hurtling toward our fragile planet. Whispers of doom echoed through the air, as some proclaimed it to be an extinction-level event. Determined to devise a survival strategy, my family and a select few friends convened at a restaurant, hoping to find solace and a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

     Deep beneath the surface of our collective fears, a singular idea emerged—to seek refuge far below ground. My father, ever resourceful, recalled a hatch nestled within a nearby golf course, its depths shrouded in mystery. Yet, an unsettling revelation followed, as he revealed that he had overheard faint voices emanating from within, hinting at a clandestine presence.

     In the midst of our deliberations, a family friend, veiled in secrecy, led us to a hidden staircase—a portal to the unknown depths of the earth. Hope mingled with trepidation as we descended into the bowels of the earth, a motley crew bound by a shared desire to outlive the imminent cataclysm. Alas, our steps did not go unnoticed, for a group of wayward miscreants trailed behind, their intentions veiled in malice.

     Amidst the chaos, a figure representing workplace safety protocols chastised us, his fury ignited by our reckless disregard for OSHA guidelines. Panic gripped us, scattering our once united front. The malicious horde pursued me relentlessly, their malevolence manifesting in a vicious assault upon my person.

     As I stumbled homeward, bloodied and battered, the weight of impending doom and the twisted nature of humanity pressed upon my weary shoulders. In the face of an approaching cosmic reckoning, it seemed that even the bonds of friendship and the sanctity of safety guidelines were but fragile threads, torn asunder by the brutality of those who embraced chaos in the twilight of our existence.

I wake up

All Along The Watchtower

Dream 2.16.2018

I am working as a wrestler and writer for the WWE. A match in which I am appearing is about to begin. As I am cutting a promo with Triple H, I forget my lines. I run to the sheet of paper and nervously shuffle through the pages to find what I am supposed to say. It is obvious to the crowd that I've messed up. The match is about to begin. It's a three on three tag team match. Someone takes my place. I'm not upset about this. I need a break. I leave the show with Stephanie McMahon. We drive to a nearby grocery store. Later on, I think to pitch an idea to the company for a match. Stone Cold Steve Austin vs Shane McMahon. In my mind, this could be the biggest match in history.

The WWE is also The Honor Academy. The two are one and the same. All the interns climb a tower. I follow. It is many steps to the top. When I arrive, I see Vince McMahon in his office. He yells at me for not being in the right place. I walk to the center of the tower where dozens of interns are eating lunch. I grab a seat by my friend Derek. The table is a large, round table in a circular room. One couldn't easily talk to the person directly in front of them without talking loudly. Harrison Ford is in the opposite seat on the other side of the table. He is angry and yelling at the interns. I feel an air of status from him as if he is tired of these low life interns taking up his oxygen. He yells at the interns to be quiet as he walks into an office with big, open windows. I overhear his conversation as he picks up the phone. He says to the person on the other line, "yes, let me read what it says in this magazine and you see if it matches." I have a feeling that he is working on WWE business.

Derek and I finish our lunch. As he walks down the tower steps, I walk over to where Harrison is sitting. He along with many interns is watching the World Series on a TV mounted on the wall. I sit there as well, two seats away from the celebrity. He yells at the interns again. I notice that the interns are all wearing backward hats while I am wearing mine forward.

I walk down the steps of the tower and realize that the trip down was faster than the one up. I meet a girl who was an intern at the HA but I cannot remember her name. She has blonde hair and is shorter than me. She and I walk and talk. We mosey over to a rollercoaster that isn't supposed to be running but some interns have turned it on. As we watch the rollercoaster and some other rides, I tell her about a dream I once had (Chills and Thrills). I start to like this girl. As we walk in a parking garage, I notice someone taking my cat, Tandy, away. I take him back. I have to send him home to Indiana because he is no longer allowed here. I lose the blonde girl. We become disconnected. I don't know her name. I remember, however, that she returned a book with a yellow cover. I walk to the top of the tower where she returned it. I find it and look. Her name is inscribed on the first page.

I wake up.