Yes, a few are just dreams. But most are the other thing.
It was halftime at a NASCAR speedway. (Does NASCAR even have a halftime?) My dad had started a grassroots ministry for troubled young men, counseling them to better themselves with Islamic teachings. This ministry had grown into a national phenomenon, and he was counseling all kinds of people, families were paying large sums to have … Continue reading Dream #268: Bill Murray and the NASCAR Apocalypse
I got to work very early in the morning, while it was still dark. All the parking lot lamps were off, and there were no lights on in the entire factory. I made my way up the hall to the refrigeration inventory area, where there is a long wall with lockers and refrigerators along it. … Continue reading Dream #86: When Alice Cooper is Done, Only Your Desiccated Husk Remains
We were building an instrument at work with instructions from centuries ago, full of archaic terms and weirdly scripted letters. Our workshop was in the middle of the old Woolworth’s in McCook, Nebraska. One of the steps called for an inductor with a value in farads (not a capacitor). Everyone was looking at each other, … Continue reading Dream #270: Jim Breuer Meets Michael Faraday
The infection spread westward, and at last it reached Nebraska. The farm was overrun with the Dead, and those of us who survived became hardened and honed for killing, hoarding, and barricading. In the twilight of a summer evening, a small group of us was passing the chicken house, stabbing the odd zombie in the … Continue reading Dream #266: The Chanting Men and the John Deere Train
Out on the farm, in the dead of night, no one was asleep. Beyond the trees and the end of the driveway, big, bellowing vehicles roamed up and down the road running north-south, red lights strobing, blinding flood lights sweeping the eastern edges of our property. We were under threat of invasion by some dark … Continue reading Dream #263: The Masque of the Monochrome Marionette
The young man with blond curls was immortal, an instrument of some ancient, evil force. He’d committed terrible crimes against my family, tried to kill us by bombing a building we were staying in. When we cornered him at last, we beat him until he would have died, had he been mortal. His body was … Continue reading Dream #165: The Goddamned Eaves
I think this was the first one. It's the oldest one I can find, anyway. Mom says I was about eighteen months old, so as of this posting, this would be approximately forty-eight and a half.
I was part of a team sent to represent the Lincoln chapter of PFLAG at a national convention in Arkansas. The convention was at a church, in a town where much of the industry that had kept it alive had dried up, leaving whole blocks deserted and streets in disrepair. The church was also a … Continue reading Dream #267: Hunters Become the Prey
A great darkness had fallen over the city of Lincoln, placing all power in the hands of a very few, making it so we could not get jobs and were persecuted for not conforming. A group of us went to a big trailer in the Near South neighborhood that had been converted into a church, … Continue reading Dream #232: Sopranos and Dead Cats
Shoshana Sumrall 