Armageddon? The Apocalypse? Fine, but why in my mind?
Last night, I dreamed of the Antichrist. This could have something to do with finishing Good Omens, the Pratchett/Gaiman novel, last week because the Antichrist of my dreams was no more than five or six and seemed a reasonable kid (not like Damien). I won't give you all the gory details, tell you of the raids, explosions, and random death, only that he was born one of quintuplets (why not sextuplets? I have no idea), and he killed and skinned his siblings when they were about 2 or 3 (no, please don't ask me how) and kept them under shrink wrap to eat whenever the mood struck him.
He wanted to invite Julien and me to a celebratory feast to his great victory, and I, um, tried to decline graciously.
I woke up several times and told God above and the world at large that I did not wish to be dreaming about the Antichrist, so please, change my nightmares. No such luck. Every time I woke up and fell back asleep (at least 3 times), I fell right back into the same horror. I wasn't particularly frightened in the dreams, just distraught. Ugh. Here's to hoping tonight's sleep is more relaxing and filled with, I don't know, fluffy bunnies or something.