I looked out the window and the sky was still smokey, then I noticed that all the trees were gone. "What the fuck? I know part of the Smokies to the north, and much of the Okeefenokee south of me was on fire, but what happened to the trees?" What had been a small wooded area behind my apartment was now windblown clay and rock. I heard some really weird music coming from upstairs. I guess it must have been around 9 in the morning, but the smoke in the air made it hard to tell and I had no idea where the sun was in the hazy sky. I stepped into the next room to find a clock, or my cell phone so I could find out what time it was. I was not in my apartment. This was getting weird now. A slim man with long hair and a sparse beard come into the room I was in and handed me a beer. It was Iggy Pop. "Here ya go Pat," he said, just as a fighter jet whooshed overhead outside. " Recon says most of the insurgents will be here in about an hour." "That was a really cool idea you had, about giviing away free cell phones that were pre-tapped and then just listening in until they find out who the scum bags were. "You mean this is Iraq?" "How did I get here?" He just smiled, and said, "Well you slept through most of the flight, but at least you made it to see your idea come to light." "Lemme show you around." We stepped out onto a terrace that went all around the large apartment building I found myself in. There was a courtyard filled with dirty children and some vending machines had been pushed away from the wall to conceal a large Ack-Ack gun covered with cammo drape. I started to notice quite a few soldiers with various weaponry. I looked at Iggy standing there shirtless and sipping on a Rolling Rock and I lamely asked him if I could call him Jim, seeing how that was his real name. "Sure, he said, You look pretty nervous, man, don't worry, nothing bad's gonna happen." "What are you doing here?" I said. "It's your fuckin dream man, I guess were here to welcome these dumb terrorist assholes back home." With that, the sound of several vehicles parking outside and the shouts of people getting out of them filled the courtyard, then all grew silent. Suddenly machinegun racket filled the air like the loudest punk rock concert ever played and I saw Iggy man a 7.62 with a savage grin, then all was dust.
I looked around and got up off the floor of my bedroom, my top sheet wrapped up in my legs, making it hard to stand. My Westclock was weakly ringing down to nothing. It was just a dream, but damn! It had seemed so real. I had'nt dreamed like that in years. It was'nt until a week later when I saw my shrink, that I realized what had happened to cause the dream. Up until that point, I had been taking the Seroquel from St. Pete which was in .25 mg. form. Well that stuff had run out and I took the stuff from the new bottle without realizing it was in .50mg form. They both look the same. It sure helps my sleep and writing though. Hope y'all enjoyed it.
