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I rarely have dreams that frighten me or make me stop to ponder things like, "Yes, it would be strange if my Oldsmobile morphed into a rapid-fast orange baby elephant mid-commute and I got pulled for speeding and the officer asked me if I wrote the percussion music for Stomp, wouldn't it?" Last night, however, I had a strange dream.

I woke up in my parents house, and walked into my sister's room, where my Mom, Dad, and sister were looking out the window. "What's up?" They pointed out the window and I looked out the window. There were no trees or lawns or roads or anything, just black space and stars and these crazy technicolor flashes, almost like lightning bolts, shooting around intermittently. "I think the fabric of reality has ripped," my Dad said. "Does this mean classes are cancelled?" my sister asked.

We stood staring out the window and I wasn't scared, exactly, but it was one of those dream-moments where you know you're going to die in like twenty minutes, but you're not sure how to feel about it. I don't know if I knew it was a dream. I woke up in the middle of the night and looked out the window, and there were trees and lawns and roads. I haven't quite been able to verbalize the strangeness of this dream yet, but unlike most dreams, I haven't slowly forgotten it.