Microfiction (Patreon)

I dreamed that the world was ending. I don't remember the specifics so let's just say it was the Heathers Scenario: Aliens announced they were going to blow up the planet.

Everyone did the things you'd expect: Parties, orgies, tearful farewells to loved ones, etc. But then we woke up the next day and the world was still there.

We realized that the aliens hadn't given us a specific deadline. But we were sure it would be soon so we gathered together with people we loved and we waited. To pass the time we made art because we'd always been meaning to and what else were we going to do?

In a weird way, the dream had a cozy feel. The place we waited felt like a giant version of your favorite cafe. Everything was soft, in shades of pink and brown. We drank coffee that was warm and sweet the way you always imagine coffee to be. The space was littered with comfortable chairs and spaces where people were cuddling, reading, typing quietly on laptops. 

I (half)joked that everyone was finally writing that self important one person show they'd always wanted to do, but there was no point because, with everyone performing, there was no one left to be the audience. Not that there would be time to finish it anyway, because aliens were about to blow up the earth.

By the third or fourth day everyone was confused and a little restless. I wondered, and then hated myself for wondering, how long it would be before we would have to go back to work. How long before we all had to go back to normal, just trying to ignore the fact that aliens were going to blow up the world at some point?

A bit on the nose, psyche.