Something was wrong with the world. It was night time up above and late afternoon on the ground. Snow was covering leafed trees in mid-august and the sky was littered with stars; too many to count, too many to be real.
Hannah and I were standing before our rustic mountain cabin marveling over the strange natural phenomena we were witnessing. We felt incredibly small under this vast sky, somehow able to see its entirety and every detail at the same time. Gazing upwards, a novel formation caught my eye. This, my intuition reported to me, is a collection of planets, clustering close to one another due to my own planet´s wild behavior. I felt awe mixed with fear and this nearly undefinable sense of reality “dissolving”. Everything I had ever known suddenly appeared uncertain. The universe revealed its hidden realities and I dreaded the idea of humans´ inability to comprehend its meaning. Neither our minds nor our bodies were made for this. Like a one-dimensional creature sensing and longing for the three-dimensional world without any hope of success.
As it got darker, Hannah and I slowly made our way back inside, hoping to hear from someone who could tell us what on earth was going on (pun intended). I remained near the windows observing the mad sky above our heads, while Hannah grew more and more unsettled. The planet formation was in constant movement, as if that part of the sky was bottled up in a cheap bottle of rum carried by a drunk man. Occasionally, planets sped from one bottle wall to another, not unlike shooting stars, while leaving a trail behind them.
Hannah appeared to suffer from a sudden onset of cabin fever and restlessly marched from one window to another. It was raining a sparkly substance of a previously unknown silverish/goldish color. These sparks hit the ground fast, yet not sound was heard nor vibrations felt to indicate their impact. Wary, I discouraged Hannah from going outside. “This can´t be save”, I communicated nonverbally. In a brave attempt to understand, or maybe challenge reality, she opened a window and peered outside. The air felt humid and heavy, filled with particles never before seen on earth. It wasn´t long before Hannah was hit by sparks, which were, not surprisingly, of toxic nature. She suffered some minor chemical burns before managing to pull her head inside and slam the window shut. She looked defeated and sad.
The world fell into an extended state of emergency. Very few people were left in our town, but where could they have possibly gone? The acid rain had long since stopped. However, the sky refused to change and the world remained stuck in its stubborn night-afternoon imbalance. With our eyes pinned to the floor, we made our way to the grocery store. We arrived at noon, just before the store closed. The seriousness of the situation hit us at once; there was no food left in the first several isles. The thought “We are running out of food” ran through my mind and my mood changed to a melancholic state of disbelief. The end was certainly a lot quieter and more peaceful than I had envisioned.
We quickly grabbed a few bags of various food items off the shelves before being thrown out by the hurried staff. Everything looked cold and unreal. Quietly, we headed back home. We never arrived and maybe, somewhere, we are still walking through the fog that marks the space between reality and dream. But then again, what´s real anyway?