Years before the global revolution and the planet restart, I had a dream. To my past self, it was an unnerving but dismissible fantasy; what was I to do with what would seem like a work of fiction to others? Dreams have no impact on earthly affairs, and my dream could have meant anything. Still, it haunted me for a while, but by the time the unraveling began, I had long forgotten my prophetic conception and it wasn’t until years after we began rebuilding did I find the journal in which I jotted the dream’s events down, and wept onto the telltale words.

Last night I had a dream that lingered with me well into the day. I feel peculiar about it, and I don’t know if it was just a dream of wild imagination, but it also feels as though it was given to me, entrusted to my sleeping mind and placed upon me. There is a fresh, wispy fog that swirls about it in my memory.

I was with my friends, and we were in trouble–we had a mission, and we had broken into an empty mansion. A small group of about five of us, dressed in dark clothes and utility belts, entered the spacious living room in haste, searching for–I don’t remember, even. The room was open and sprawled before us, with lavish and sleek sofas wrapping around the room, floating dual fireplaces, walls made of glass floor-to-ceiling. We were in a hurry, but once we stepped foot into this room, we slowed and looked around in wonder. Across the way, the far wall opened up to an outdoor patio that extended over the lake of which this room sat upon the shore.

I was drawn to it, and the living room faded away as I approached the patio doorway. I was walking so softly, and in such somber anticipation, for what I would see beyond those slatted bamboo French doors, which were opened outward. My mates stayed behind, disappearing, and with them, any sense of urgency I had about our mission.

What I beheld took away the breath in my chest and widened my eyes with amazement. The patio, like a dock, extended out upon the lake in a large, curving circle, and was enclosed with walls and an arching ceiling made of sticks and rope-ties. The exterior walls had a medley of expansive windows, many of which were set open, and so the warm pink light flowed freely throughout the patio, and with it, the fresh crisp breeze from the lapping waves, which surrounded it. Lake extended in every direction from the edge of land upon which the mansion’s main floor plan sat.

The patio was so peaceful and open. The floor descended in wide, gradual steps that curved with the circular shape, like the tiers in a movie theater. Many light brown wicker patio furniture pieces were set up along each level, such as chaise-lounges, tables, cushioned benches. Adorning the tables were bouquets of pink and white flowers in mason jars with ribbon tied around it, and lace doilies, and green flower petals sprinkled.

I entered the temple with silk steps, soft and slow, and looked to my right–to the west–and felt with its light the sun setting upon the liquid horizon, its orange glow petting the tips of the waves, which reflected its magnificent hue with abundant vigor, rippling almost dreamlike–in fact, very much so dreamlike. The steely blue of the water, the brilliant warmth of the orange sky, reaching its arms out, and the sun, sitting in mid-set as though the yolk of an egg.

Taken by the sight, I gasped with my soul, and suddenly turned to the side as I noticed an older woman sitting upon one of the woven benches. She was on the top level, to the back of the patio, which faced the sunset as though a stadium, and she wore a straw hat, and had short, curly golden hair. A pink ribbon encircled the bowl of her hat and a matching flower stuck to it. Her denim jacket was white, and so were her 3/4 length pants, and she wore light brown sandals. She sat watching the sunset before us, sitting upright and contented.

I noticed her, and she may have noticed me, if that was a slight nod she gave, but in what felt like slow motion, I looked back to the sunset, and with just as careful strides, I made my way down a couple levels, engrossed by the sight before me, which lay so open for us. About midway down, I sat upon a wicker bench with fluffy cushions and laid on my side. I was transfixed by the ethereal beauty of the sunset, and the sacred, tranquil atmosphere of this patio. A single thought only appeared in my mind, and I whispered it to the breeze, “This feels like heaven.” The orange and pink glow warmed the evening, and the breeze picked up, blowing in towards me.

With a sigh, I watched the sun dip steadily, until it sank beyond the horizon, and the sky and the water quickly dissolved into a deep, dark blue, and shadows were cast upon the earth quickly.

I thought that would be it. I was singing with my cells, my skin vibrated with warm ecstasy. I felt I had witnessed a miracle of spirituality. But as I continued to rest my eyes on the nest where the sun had settled down into and beyond, I saw suddenly a giant, dark metal crane far away swing across the water and reach, like an arm, down into the horizon, digging almost, and as it retracted, it pulled up the sun, that brightly glowing orb, with it.

I watched in horrified suspense. In my soul, I felt afraid for us all, for no good could come from tampering with what natural significance had just occurred, for plucking the flower from its bed of soil in sticky-fingered greed. I thought to the machine, “What are you doing?” in desperation. The crane swung with the sun, but the sun was too dense for the weak metal machine, and uprooted the crane. Suddenly sun and machine were teetering mid-air, and in a seemingly eternal moment, finally fell into the water.

After the shadows consumed, I don’t remember after that. I woke up, romanced and perplexed by my hour of serenity, by the the lullaby sunset, and the metal arm which slashed the peace of nature.

Closing the pages, I realized. Dreams do affect earth.