a true story

when i was five i had a dream. i say five, but i don't know how old i was; just that i was young. it was the last real nightmare i ever had; i'm fairly certain i've never woken up screaming like that ever since. few dreams since have compared in terms of sheer realism.

i was at a concert. i remember saying it was a led zeppelin concert; i didn't have much else to go on, though. music was still kinda new to me. anyway. the music was loud, until it ended. everything was dark, and all the people were gone, but i heard a noise behind me. i turned, and it was a demon (looking, i've since realized, much like this, a picture i didn't see until at least four or five years later). it said something, and breathed fire, and for a moment, i was the fire.

that wasn't the part that woke me up. as the fire faded, i found myself in a field. there were trees, and birds, and the sun was as warm as the wind was cool. it was pleasant, but soon i noticed the color draining from everything. as it all went black and white, black cracks slowly began to spread across the image - imposed over land and sky alike - until the whole scene shattered. when there was nothing left, that's when i woke up screaming.

i've come to find it paints a pretty good picture of the world since i was born. rock concert, hellfire, and then nature goes grey and the world dies. dang.

those last three links are from chile this week. they're not color altered. that's ash.