It begins with the realization that I am standing beneath disaster. At the top of a frail flag pole is a fragmented boulder balanced imperfectly. The heart-wrenching feeling takes me that it is going to fall. I turn to run to find my legs sinking into the floor as if it is quicksand. From the ground I crawl painstakingly away as the boulder creaks with anticipation of falling. I continue my crawl down a crooked hallway, the only light source being a dim stroboscopic fluorescent, hearing shrill voices from the rooms on both sides. I am aware that someone is following me, but not chasing. He stalks with a slow gate that seems full of confidence that I am not going to get away this time. I reach the end of the hall to find a small doorway, as if the entrance to an incinerator. I climb in, noticing that I am in a slightly slanted tunnel, just wide enough for my shoulders to squeeze through. The farther I get the smaller my escape route becomes, as I hear the nailing of the doorway shut. Once I can no longer move I struggle futilely to turn around...no room. Looking forward I see a small hole at the end of the tunnel - just enough for me to see out - on the other side of which is a dilated eye. It wears a sympathetic expression of much anguish and helplessness. The scene widens to show a massive whale, lying vulnerable on rocky ground. I know that it is hundreds of miles from any shoreline, exausted from some equally discomforting journey. I watch as slowly the great beast is overtaken by ants, from the ground up. As his insides are colorfully exposed, a buzzard lands on his head and bites into his eye, after one last pointless blink.
I awake with a chill, shivering and shaking, dripping sweat, wondering..
What will become of me?
Before I even open my eyes I am thinking of what I will wear today. Sitting up - reluctantly - I inhale and prepare to face another day of mind-numbing routine.