We watched The Road last night, based on Cormac McCarthy's novel about which I have written before, and I spent the night dreaming (yet again) about armageddon.
Last night's incarnation involved fleeing our apartment and across the George Washington Bridge to New Jersey to find shelter because, in my dream world at least, the state of New Jersey has stricter building codes and can withstand the onslaught of nuclear fallout. (Even in dreams, it seems, I am always looking for an explanation.)
We were scrambling through rubble looking for basement apartments, digging through piles of dust in search of nails to board up broken windows and splintered doors.
Apparently even with its stricter building codes, New Jersey is no safe haven in the face of nuclear annihilation.
Then I woke up, showered off these clinging remnants of sleep, came to work, drank my morning coffee (on the house, because my deli man insists that the New Year deserves a free cup!).
Am now I am hard at work. Clearly. But sometimes that's better than dreaming.
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