“That's what hell must be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the
good old days when we wished we were dead.”-Samuel Beckett
Most of my memorable dreams in Dec have been about arguing with 2 other people in dark enclosed spaces about oblivion, the multiverse, and the end of the world. Obviously these dreams are inspired by the play "No Exit" by Jean-Paul Sartre. Since my typical bimonthly or weekly dreams about hell usually involves feeling enormous battle fatigue and streetfighting demons, I consider Existentialist Hell to be an marked improvement. The mute third presence is usually a pretty girl. A lot of guys in my position might even consider them dreams about Paradise. Locked in a room with a beautiful girl who almost never talks back, and just one asshole I need to clobber in order to bang her for all eternity.
An exception to this dream sequence occurred late last Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning. I had been thinking a lot about the composite light photographs from the ISS dark field observatory, the #Cop18 #Doha summit on Climate Change, Nuclear Proliferation, & other 21st century bogies such as the Mayan calendar panic. Since I passed out looking at the Light photos again I ended up dreaming about watching the end of the World from the ISS. Unlike Douglas Adams' charming "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe", all I could see and hear from the ISS was all the slaughter and destruction taking place on what had once been a bright blue ball. I watched the planet tremble and burn. The people turned to constant war and cannibalism. The seas rose up as the skies became black with smoke and tempests. I felt a wrenching and a tearing as I became trapped in a manifold of the multiverse, forever trapped in a singularity as I awoke.
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