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Inside a vast, dim tent, shuffling undead awaited. Their dark bones smoked amethyst in the shaky torchlight, their shredded rags regal crimson. Confident and communicative undead of unknown ages. I warned them not to leave the confines of the tent but they muttered their excuses and went into the savage desert sunlight outside. They were able to return after all. Zombies created zombies and were happy about it, though these were fleshier than their originally dry, empty skeletons of before. What we spoke of I don’t remember.

The campsite was around a stand of old trees on a hill. The ground was dry and grass was sparse. A lounge tent of mostly mesh was set up, all the comforts of home scattered within. Then in the distance, a thick plume rose up from a hillside sparking with glittery orange and red.
Sparks reached us before the smoke and we scrambled, looking around to account for everyone, to grab up survival gear only to pile into the vehicle to go somewhere, anywhere away. The campsite was on a hillside near some broad, tall trees and the large homey tents were all set up and comfortably arrayed with everything you’d want for a week-long sojourn into fresher climes. We felt a rumble and looked down. The city below spread out in the valley, a wave of monochrome bar graphs all jumbled together, and the hills along the other side rising gently in the west. As if Hephaestus had brought his hammer down to temper the land, a massive gout of ash and raging sparks appeared with alarming quickness, and soon another smaller cloud rose from the heart of the city scape below. Looking about in dazed alarm we felt the earth sink and shift beneath our feet. A massive old tree beside me sudden lit up from within, the deep fissures in the knobby bark glowed malevolently, betraying the heat within. We knew we had to flee. The campsite was all set up at the edge of the old forest on the eastern hill outside the city…

The weekly geek show was going to be taped live in what looked like an area part gymnasium, part library reading room beneath a mezzanine. There wasn’t much of an audience, and I sat near a blond girl who was taping it. Each panel member had their own microphone at the decorated table they were seated at. I don’t remember what they talked about, really. I do remember feeling compelled to comment once in a while, which earned me some dirty looks from the girl taping. Later, I found myself trying to keep up with someone, seeking the building exit, getting lost in crowded kitchens and supply rooms.

“The stars, the stars, oh my god the stars.” Said flat and awe-struck, devotional terrified at the non-verbal message known in that upward-glancing moment. Thousands, millions, like Pan’s dark colanders under which we’re kept like insects to be peeked at and tittered over. The sky suddenly exposing itself in this manner like never before, as if someone simply turned the volume up on the night. The moon zooming in on the earth as if to crash into it, nothing happened. A certain sense of disappointment over the coming doom ruining a recent change in bedrooms and the subsequent comfort attained by the move. Time travel. Dark suburban neighborhood.

Hat similar to pictured but dark maroon with very little embellishment and with 3 long dull silver pins with mysteriously important symbols on them to hold it in place. To attain it, I pressed the nose on the bust of a dead person on which the hat was being displayed, who spoke on my behalf to the person who had to give it to me. I desired it in order to pursue an affair with strange man (it seems we were together before space/time travel for I was confident that he and I had been and were indeed meant to be). I persued him through a giant confusing house party, rooms upon rooms of exhausted party-goers of all types, a true everyman’s soiree. Standing out back of the house, watching pieces of fully intact space equipment that looked like massive scaffolding constructions fall with obscene, slothful ignorance of gravity’s 32 feet per second rule. Then fleeing, seeking shelter from the madness and physical upheaval. Running, but later (with no transition or preamble) swimming to a large old sailing ship, getting aboard and collapsing at the desired man’s feet to lavish praise on him only to be scolded for weakness. Fighting the tempestuous waves in the boat, a large glass half-circle reveals the boat is completely overturned, but righted again, several times, which happens only in the context of what happens outside. Aside from severe rocking, people inside the boat are never thrown between floor and ceiling. Rockets rain down from the sky, attacking the boat. We’d almost made it through the storm but that assault was too much. We came back to shore. Afterward is all murky.

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