October is has nearly arrived. Outside it feels like October but it doesn't look like October. When I think of October I imagine the leaves on the trees showing more colors than green and pale yellow. The streets are wet from the rain and when they don't sizzle under car tires I can hear the rustle of the dead leaves. Come Hallowe'en the trees are dark, they reach for the sky hoping to draw winter clouds around them for modesty's sake.
- Groceries
- Band Aids
- Cleaning gloves
- Floor cleaning fluid
- Kleenex
- Toilet paper
- Squirtle food
- Chores
- Dishes
- Kitchen
- Bathroom
- Spot's box
Of course they were more like Tillie than the iconic slimes made famous by Toriyama in the DragonWarrior games.
The world was coming to an end. Of course the world of man, the planet would survive along with the rest of the ecosystem once the dust settled for good.
Just like the last two dreams, it was rainy and dark. This wasn't Rainy Mountain but someplace in California. The fact that I was in California didn't sit well with me. Trees bent in supplication to the wind and the rain. Night came early from the thick, dark clouds. My wipers frantically whipped the water away banging against the frame of the car.
A tornardo started forming to the west and I floored it hoping for cover or to get out of its way. Up ahead I saw a big log cabin, a ranger station, and reckoned I could find shelter there until the inevitable. I skidded up against the porch and lumbered out when to my wondering eyes appeared twelve enormous tornadoes that looked like chocolate milk. Things were worse than I expected. Since I was already out of the car, I ran into the cabin and shouted that an army of tornadoes was bearing down on the house and anyone there should get the fuck out of dodge. There were a few people but not many.
Once they made their escape, I brought up the rear and tore off down the road following them since they would know the safest way being locals.
Up ahead I could see the twin supports for the Golden Gate bridge rising above the trees and horizon. I insisted on calling the bridge the Oakland bridge. When the bridge was in sight, despite lingering fog, I saw that it was in a bad way. A tsunami had ripped through the bay and caused extensive damage. Fortunately the bridge was still standing but the roadway was stripped, girders were jammed through the remaining surfaces. I held my breath as I sped across the remnants of the bridge dodging potholes, cables and deadly drops into the water.
I never made it across because I woke up.
