End of the world

All I can say is, lucky for us my alarm went off at ten to six this morning, because the world was in the process of ending. It was made of dirt and huge, round boulders, and an earthquake was tearing it apart.

It was fabulous.

In the midst of it all, I was trying to do something typically dreamlike, like thread a needle or something (not literally thread a needle; I was trying to accomplish something in the dream, but cannot now remember what) but it wasn’t particularly frustrating.

I was sort of disappointed that I woke up when I did, because I wanted to see things go kaboom.

And on Saturday, Gamma and I bought scratch tickets at the store and I won fifty euro. Gamma claimed she’d won it, so rather than argue I let her cash it in and collect the money, then pocketed it. She basically forgot about it after that.

6 responses to “End of the world

  1. You had an actual earthquake, like right there where you are, at 4am on 6 December.
    Did you feel it?
    I love the “did you feel it” survey. I get to fill them out pretty regularly, woet.

  2. mig

    No, Alpha was in Japan that week and I had my hands full, and that was my hour to sleep. It would have taken a big one for me to feel it.

    St. Nicholas came at about 5 am that morning, in fact, putting peanuts and tangerines and chocolates into the girls’ shoes. Maybe he felt it.

  3. just say no to unreinforced brick buildings

    We Yahoo! News – Deadly Earthquake Hits Central Coast” href=”http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=350&e=2&u=/kpix/20031222/lo_kpix/8719″>barely felt it, but Miguel predicted it from all the way…

  4. mig

    And everyone was shouting the same six numbers between one and 45…

    … and the name of a horse.

  5. And there were tiny helicopters!

    I saw a friend I haven’t crossed paths with since the Nemo wrap party, one and a half eons ago, the other night, and she told me she had a dream about me and her favorite pet guinea pig from when she was a child. It had run off and made a burrow on the far periphery of her yard, back home in London, and she took me out to visit and to sing to it. ‘Cause, you know, I’m like the Small Animal Whisperer or whatever. So I sang to it and it came out of its hole and we sang together, with harmony and everything, and then she woke up.