The End.

Last night may have been the worst night of my life.  I woke up many different times in near hysteria from a dream I was having.  Each time it was the same dream and (I think) I woke up at the same spot.  I really don’t remember the dream very well, except a basic premise:

We were fighting a war on American soil.  It was very dark and chilly, even in the daytime.  There were contant bombs and planes flying overhead, and a constant fear that there wouldn’t be access to food and drinking water. I only know that our “enemies” were those that we’d defeated in previous wars because I kept hearing their soldiers say “This is what it’s like to be under your occupation.”  I feel like it was a mix of Russian, German, Japanese, Korean, and Islamic militaries that had attacked us while our troops were elsewhere.  There was trash and debris everywhere.  I was in crowds of people, yet knew no one. Everyone seemed to be separated from their families.  No one knew what cities remained in-tact, as all access to media and communication was destroyed. I always woke up at the point where the occupation soldiers were marching through the area with giant flaming crosses, telling us the end had come and that we’d never be saved from the horrors we’d caused the rest of the world.

I woke up feeling as though I’d just witnessed the end of the world.

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