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Saturday, Mar. 09, 2002 / 3:13 p.m. ~The White Light of the Apocalypse~ This is Jonathan Cainer's horoscope for Aries for the week upcoming: Week commencing Saturday, 9th March 2002 Sigh...sounds good, but his horoscopes never seem to apply to me. I can think of other Aries folks who are probably getting some of his good juju, but I don't know. We'll see. I dreamed of an apocalypse again. And I awoke right after, or during, got up to pee, wanted to write it down, but figured I'd never get back to sleep if if I did, and I guess I wanted to sleep. I remember aspects of this dream clearly though... It was like that movie "Last Night", and I recommend it, the movie, it's about a group of people and what they do on the last night of existence. They know the world is going to end, it's going to happen at midnight, I think, so they act accordingly. It's really good. But, in my dream, there was some woman who wanted me to slit her throat, she had killed her family, I think - details are hazy - but I couldn't do the slitting, couldn't cut hard enough, like she wanted me too. Gross, sorry, can't do it, can't help you, find someone else, okay? That part is still vivid, this person lying in a tub, a small cut across the throat, not deep at all, not at all life threatening. But then, somehow, things changed, we all knew the world was going to end, we only had a matter of hours. I don't know if there was a midnight deadline, but there was a deadline, and everyone knew. We were all trying to figure how to spend the last moments of our lives, getting to where we needed to be. And, as I've recently discovered my attraction to certain "older" men, there was an older man, and I went for him, I came on to him, in some way, and we were kissing, I was very forward - but I wanted to be with the girls, Norman and Gladicus, so I ended up with them, maybe holding them, as the light grew whiter, the sky lit up, we knew this was how it would be, night turned to day, a bright white light, a heat, an electric charge to the air, an indescribable silence, an enveloping quiet, a fear, an anxiety, a moment of waiting....of ultimate waiting. And I was ready, this was it, I couldn't have been more prepared, I felt it, the light, I squinted from its brightness, I couldn't look at it, and was I outside, was I inside, and did it matter? It was like those nuclear explosions you see on film, that burst of white light that takes over everything for just a moment, and I felt it, I waited, I felt it take over, me, and I was waiting, wondering what death is like, is there heaven, how does it feel to be nothing, to no longer exist, what is it like to suddenly not exist at all???? Waiting.... And nothing happened. We weren't dead. We never died, none of us, it wasn't an end. It was a beginning. We had a second chance, we started over. No wonder I woke up. I'll never forget that feeling, like the dream where I got shot in the head, and I could feel the pain, could feel the impact, the pain, but not that moment of no longer being. Or the dream where I dropped into the earth itself, through a chasm, a hole, a pit, a spiraling vortex (is that redundant?), and I knew that was it, I was no longer, I'd sunk into the earth, I was a part of it now. I always wake up after dreams like that. There seems to be no dream afterlife. Puzzling. I'm okay though. I slept way too long. My body was ready to get up around 9:30, tops, latest, that's it, it's TIME, get up! But it just seems so "wrong" to be up that early on a Saturday, so I stayed, I dreamed more, I moved into some caves with a group of people, and it was hard to get stuff in, then people from Peru were helping me move, but I hadn't packed, so they were pissed, then we were going to sleep in one King size bed, but I wanted the husband of the woman in the middle, I knew he and I would play while she slept, and how wrong was that? Whew. Time to get up, past time, way past, 1:20 or so. Or so. Warm outside, a young black man shouting, "STUPID BITCH! What the fuck do you.... the fuck... the FUCK... Stupid BITCH!", and I realized he was walking around outside, talking on his cellular phone. Fucking cell phones. He kept it up, it was unintelligible, it was continous, then he'd stop, listen, respond. This happened twice, by the way. Once, early, very early, I figured what it was, I deduced, I went back to sleep. Then later, again. Angry black man. A cliche. And I lay in bed wondering, who is "stupid bitch"? His wife? Girlfriend? Sister? Mother? Cousin? Aunt? No, not anyone older, no elder, no grandma. Crazy living in the 'hood. Sleeping with the window open, waiting for the rain, like waiting to die in an apocalyptic explosion of white light..... the rain is here though. The temperature is warm, I have the same headache I had last night, only it's more, it's improved. The headache is feeding off itself, growing, altering, changing the landscape of pain. And I'm drinking that instant cappuccino stuff, I bought a sampler pack at Wal Mart when I last wandered through the aisles filled with odd staples. It's creme caramel flavored sugar and instant coffee. Not bad. Too many dirty dishes to push aside to make fresh ground. Today: need to do dishes. Need to vaccum. Need to dust and clean one surface, one object, one piece of furniture. But won't. No doubt. Need to do laundry. Need. Procrastinate. Bond Picture Show is "Live and Let Die", my favorite movie when I was 10 years old. I even bought the soundtrack, on vinyl, back then - McCartney and Wings. Was it "Wings", then? Or just a backup band?? I loved Roger Moore, I thought he was sexy when I was 10. I was daft. I thought Jane Seymour's heaving cleavage was so tantalizing, it was no wonder she let Bond take her virginity. "Take". How odd..... I'll watch it, oh yeah, and as per usual, will no doubt fall asleep during. But I'll try not to. Right now, the air is stale, I'm coughing, I have a headache, and I'm tired. Too warm for the heater, not warm enough for the a/c. I've been reduced to rambling, describing the air quality, so thusly I depart. Must live offline for a bit. Cost of the War in Iraq
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