At precisely 7.00 am I awoke from a dream where I was in a bleak western farmyard with only two of my three children and my ex-wife and my ex-mother-in-law, when these sooty grey mushroom cloud H-bombs went off some 30-40 miles distant. We had no time for the flash, which wasn't in the dream, and I worked out within the dream we had 2 and 1/2 minutes before the sound, but didn't account for the supersonic blastwave which would have arrived about a minute, perhaps, afterwards.
All I had time for in the dream were these two things. One, wondering where my oldest boy was, and grieving his death alone; two, not being able to make my mind up to run for cover or get blasted.
Since none of of us would have water, the latter would be best.
I couldn't get back to sleep. I obsessed over the ramifications.
I had to go back down to my kids today. I didn't feel happy about it.
I dealt with my practicalities of supper etc, and they are all asleep in bed.
And then I was alone with three sleeping boys. My heart burst and I found myself sobbing on the telephone to my lover. It's been a shit day. Shit thricely. Shit octopussly. I want my schizt life in one piece.
Yeah I'm tough. But still cry like a boy.
2016 - Best Books
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