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Tuesday, Feb. 19, 2002 / 11:43 a.m. ~Dreaming of the Apocalypse, Again~ I dreamed the apocalypse had come. I was flipping through channels on the TV, only to realize it was one channel. There was no cable. The enemy had taken over New York, they�d really attacked, many thousands were killed, the remaining few of us were heading towards the central portion of the country. There was nowhere to go. I�d cooked more Shumai, but I didn�t want them. I was trying to destroy them in the garbage disposal, but they came back up, flattened, elongated. I had them on the floor, on paper, trying to salvage them, maybe I could freeze them for later. Cleaning them, rinsing them, on the floor, these Chinese pork dumplings, worrying that it might not be good to eat them, but they looked okay, clean. And I called my brother, woke him up. He was alone. He wanted me to go to his house, to eat some stir fry he�d made, but it was really Jade Chicken, like we�d learned to make in that Chinese cooking class years ago, though he called it something else. I had my own food, didn�t want to go. I was on my own, truly. This was it, I was totally on my own and the end was inevitable. We were under attack, there was no escape. No cable, only the one channel, it was a clear sign. I awoke tired. Worn. The alarm didn�t even need to go off, I was done. It was all over. Lulu calls Asians �Orientals�, and I want to tell her that�s like me calling African Americans �Negroes�. No one but someone�s grandma calls Asians �Orientals� anymore. That�s like my Nonna calling blacks �coloreds� in the �70s, my mother yelling at her, �Oh, Elizabeth! Don�t call them that, they�re Black!� I need to research menopause. And cervical cancer. And uterine cancer. I need to go to a Clinic. I have no health insurance, but there is something very wrong with me. Part of me is really scared, imagining the worst. I�ll research, it will make me feel better, ease fears. So when the apocalypse comes, my brother and I will get on the phone and compete with one another culinarily? �Well, I�ve prepared my own Shumai, from scratch�, �Hah, that�s nothing, there is no food to eat, everyone is dead, there is only one channel on the television, and I have prepared Jade Chicken! YOU should be HERE, you know�. It was a one room apartment, I know. It was only one room, and I don�t recall Norma and Gladys being there with me. Some dreams stick, however unpleasant, and usually the more unpleasant the stickier. Norma was anxious and restless during the early morning, and I wonder if she awoke from an apocalyptic dream as well. She was running around, calling out to me, I don�t know what she wanted. I also dreamed I was getting someone to cut my hair for me, shorter, a real haircutter person, not just me with my scissors in the bathroom. I was happy to be doing that. Now, I�m here, work, 9:32 a.m., cubicle time. Laverne is not here, Roger is not here, Sabrina is not here, Kukla is in Hawaii. I�m exhausted. The air is still and stale, the sounds too loud, D. stomping up and down the aisle in her huge shoes, Penelope�s radio too loud, Quincey�s slurred speech too loud, everything too much or too little, just the sound of me typing as the words appear on the screen in front of me. I have an intense desire to go lie down, in bed, at home, to pretend this is just a dream as well. Strange what we do when we know the end is here. Excellent movie on this very subject, �Last Night�. I recommend it. Cost of the War in Iraq
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