I dreamed

Fire rains from the sky digging craters in the asphalt. The phones are out and I can't pack my suitcase fast enough. What does one pack for the end of the world? I am alone in my Fathers house. It is night and outside clouds of ash rise to block the remaining bits of light from stars. Something scratches at the door and I don't want to die. I fill my bag with clothes and water bottles and pictures faded and bent. I don't know where Chris is. He is gone. If there's a catastrophe, you won't hear from me. He's told me a million times. But I need to know he is safe.

Pulling back the heavy curtain I can just make out my car and the driveway. I frantically search for keys and canned food and hope. It's only two miles to her house. I have to get there. A right turn. A left turn. A left turn. They have communication and a cellar for shelter. Heat snakes through the siding, around the windows and I peel off my sweatshirt tying it around my waist.

I'm angry. I didn't get to go skydiving. I didn't get married or bring babies into the world. But I wouldn't have wanted to bring a child into this world. This world is ending. Even though I never published a book. Even though I didn't see the pyramids in Egypt.

I am alone. And the world is ending. And what I weighed doesn't matter. What I wore doesn't matter. The mistakes don't matter anymore. I forgive everyone, everything.

I turn the doorknob, cover my mouth with a tshirt to keep out the ash and walk into the world. The world on fire. The world burning. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.