The long week caught up with me and I dropped into deep sleep at once. When I finally did come up for dreams, I found myself working at a coffee bar in a hospital.
There were rumors of the world ending but we didn’t have time to debunk them. Business was booming and customers were assholes demanding. The night before was a wild ass party and I still had a hangover.
Two partygoers overdid it and needed a place to crash. I didn’t let them in my house, but showed them where they could sleep it off without being seen. Sure enough, the police made a sweep, and everyone caught in the open was nabbed. The two that I hid, remained hidden.
They were gone by morning, and had tidied up the area after themselves. It looked better after than before.
My shift ended at work, I start to head out. My phone rings, it’s one of the partygoers I helped. “Was that your house? We didn’t make a mess, did we? Oh my god, we were so fucked up. Thank you! You saved our lives! The jail fell into a sinkhole overnight! Everyone inside is gone!”
We chitchat a little more then suddenly the call drops. I’ve reached the doors of the hospital. Through them, I see what looks like pyroclastic flow in the distance. Muttering about arson, I decide to walk through the hospital and leave by the back doors instead.
“Hey! The phones…” “Are down! All over. Fires everywhere, too! Crazy!” Well, guess I better go home. I exit the back door only to step into smoke. And bees. An ornamental cactus fell over, splitting and exposing the beehive built in a hollow. But the bees were mostly dead.
The smoke chokes me so I go back inside. Everyone has left, in a hurry. The floor is deserted. I run into a bewildered nurse. He went to the stock cabinet and was alone when he came back.
Then we heard the weeping and crying. We traced the sound to a teaching wing, where in a lecture hall, everyone that was mobile was gathered. They were crying and wailing and expressing fuckton levels of sorrow. Seated on the platform was a man loudly reading from a book.
“And he sent his angels to the anchors of the world, that they may cut away the land from the sea, the air from the land, the world from being. He sent his angels to remove what had been tainted and polluted, that he may destroy it by purifying fire.”
At the sound of his voice, I achieve lucidity. You’re trolling brain. Morgan Freeman? Really? Fuck you.
“I assure you, Weaver, you are not trolling yourself. Come. Join those that will suffer only the death of the flesh. They will be created anew, after the corrupted is purged.” He stared at me intensely. The wailing grew louder. I heard rumbles and sharp cracks in the distance.
For a moment, I was afraid. An old fear gripped me. Then reason released me.
“I’m dreaming, asshole. This pocket world of yours is all yours, but I’m not playing that game. I serve no god. I do not fear dying. You want to flip the table? Flip it. Come morning I’ll be awake, and you’ll be starting over.
I leave to get myself some coffee. “Then perdition is your due and those with you!” Yea, whatever, get on with it already!
Earthquake. The nurse cries out, “That was God!”, and runs to join the others in the lecture hall.
“That wasn’t a god!”, I yell after him. “That’s a harvester angel! An angel of death! He collects souls and never releases them!” The street cracks after he crosses, blocking my way.
I start to race through the hospital when the ground suddenly lurches down. The floor is collapsing into a rising magma plume. The harvester angel is watching from a stable section of floor. He laughs at me. “You rejected me. Now I will reject you. But not before hearing you beg for mercy.”
“Just how many rules of physics are you going to break? You could have made a perfect pocket world, but instead you make a bad ripoff of “2012”? Bad angel. No imagination.” The magma flowed over my feet but nothing caught on fire. “Bitch, I’m Weaver Flameheart. What is fire to me? Be glad my alarm is about to go off, or you’ll find what my other names are. Don’t fuck with me again.”
As the hospital continued sinking into the magma, things finally started to burn. I mocked the angel one last time then left the dream. Five minutes until my alarm was set to go.
Fucking angels.
Where’s that coffee? Now bring me more.