Lema rested his arms about the
sides of a reclining chair. The star overhead glistened as a
reflection on the sweat of his brow, eventually receding as metallic
embers alongside his face having added to the increased dampness of
a long since outgrown collared plaid shirt. As he might have been
expected amongst other things any number of chores about the house for his two days of reprieve, he merely managed to find an
intoxication, not merely in the garden flora which sprung to life,
but having found some colder beverage which rested squarely by his
hand, purchasing sleep that he considered his own, like a siesta in
the warmer mid day. Only his eyes dropped so low, the rhythms of
nearby songbirds, lulling him into a restful sleep.
Lema's sleep abruptly were cut
short when he thought he heard the screams of human voice calling out
to him in the darkness that he were situated. The dream must have
had occurred in the city, passing along some night lit shopfront of a
long stretching gallery, strangely situated by overgrown fields whose
plants of grain equalled the stature of a single story sprawl lasting
the distance of infinite point to the horizon having disappeared.
Lema were so startled, that he immediately stood, and tried to call
out in some response like, 'What is it?' Only he weren't completely
awake, and the words came out as a mish mash of garbled babble.
There weren't any shadows, however, as he attempted to place himself,
and the his house had taken on the strange hues of what someone
having awoken might assume were itself the center of a surrealistic
dream world, He had pinched himself so hard to be sure that all
manner of sense weren't evacuated here. He had awoken where the
world itself were disjoint in any semblance to a previous world, as
if either this present world were imagined or the previous one had
been completely imagined, all nearby houses gone alongside his own.
Only the surrounding space that he presently occupied resembling an oasis in the desert remained
un evacuated. The tree whose branches lay overhead remained
unscathed and untouched, intact and complete, nothing of a trace of
debris remained of the houses that might have collapsed, as Lema's
mind would imagine, a great and ferocious storm having caused such
destruction, but into what should seem now the matched stretching
inifinte horizon of his dream, remained the same without any presence
of debris strewn about. The land were even scoured of the grasses
and all manner of low lying growth, where dark top soil remained
exposed as quilted patch in varying degrees of moistures set about by
the habit making of any neighbors that had chosen to water their
lawns while others remained cracked and dry. Lema, however, couldn't
even tell a place by the any mound, raised earth or hill side, as
whatever should have happened stripped and smoothed the land of so
many features otherwise. Sadly, however his beer remained sitting in
a nearby chair with beads of sweat dripping about an open dark amber
glass with flashy silvery blue label.
Lema then sighed and muttered to
himself, 'Crap now I really need a drink!' He immediately sat back
down in his chair. Emptied the remains of his present drink, and
then grabbed another in stow from a cooler seated below his chair.
Opening the new beer, taking another gulp, Lema fell back to sleep.
Okay its an idea for a 2012 end of the world beer commercial...
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