You're Lost Little Boy Version 13
Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie
I had a very realistic nuclear attack dream where I was in downtown Denver and could see the cloud appearing on the horizon. People were staring and screaming. Some were starting to run, but most of us realized there was no escape.
I wanted to see my son again. I wanted to call my mother, with whom I have a troubled relationship, and tell her that I love her even though our bond is difficult. I wasn't afraid so much as extremely sad. I knew there was nothing more I could to do. My last words were "Gem, come get me, please come get me."
When I woke up in my son's living room, I was surprised because the dream was that real.
I'm not sharing this as some sort of prophecy of doom, just a thought that with the Cheeto Warmonger and his pissing contest with Krazy Kim Jong Un, the pervasive feeling that power-hungry kooks could reduce us all to ash and perma-fuck the rest of the planet which many of us remember from the Cold War has made a resurgence.
I was once talking to my son about how living during the Cold War has formed the sorts of things I write and even the way I think. I said that I never thought much about the future when I was younger because I was pretty sure I didn't have one as I figured I was going to die in a nuclear exchange.
My son made the remark that he didn't know what it was like living during the Cold War, but the older science fiction that he likes to read gave him an idea of how people who lived then thought and felt with the looming shadow of possible nuclear war.
The other day I said to him "remember how you said you didn't know what it was like to live during the Cold War? Well, thanks to Trump, now you do."
My reasons to hate Lord Dampnut do not lessen as his time in office marches on.
~Cie~
