The Apocalypse

I’ve been having weird dreams recently. Last night it was about learning some skill set that would be useful if the world fell apart, you know, after the apocalypse. Like, my (awesome) friend with sheep knows how to process wool from animal to comfy sweater, and that would be a useful thing to know how to do. My partner knows which plants are edible. Another friend is a potter, and can work an old fashioned kiln. My sister raises cattle. Somehow, I don’t think literature teachers are going to be in high demand.

The funny thing about dreams like that is that my age filters in while I’m dreaming. I’m starting to no longer think of myself as a person, now, but as an older person. In this set of dreams, I had to prove my worth with some skill set (that I don’t have yet), because otherwise I was going to be cannibalized. So yes, they’re nightmares. Because the world’s a mess and I have various moments of freaking out.

I suppose what I can do is tell stories, or failing that, observe and share.

So for example: yesterday was a rainy morning, and we went to watch and listen to birds in a natural reserve. There were male grebes doing their posturing for the ladies, even though it’s far too late to match up with anyone and lay any eggs. There were other grebe couples who’d already mated. One egg hatched as we were watching it. Another nest was full of an empty egg shell and confused parents. Someone’s child had just been eaten (or just didn’t make it for whatever reason.) We heard tons of birds, and I’m trying out a new app which IDs bird calls. We saw young wild boar, close enough to be cute and far enough away that the mother wasn’t going to be bothered by us.

It was fun to people watch, too. All sort of people are birders. One young man was walking with his telescope and binoculars, but he was tattooed everywhere and looked like a gang member. Apparently, he likes to look at birds. Another birder had the alcoholic’s nose (one can apparently bird watch and abuse one’s liver.) Another group of ladies were into the birds, but could have cared less about the young wild boars. One guy was photographing moss. Another was just walking his little sausage dog and enjoying the forest. It was just people, birds and boars.

It was pleasant. It was a few people with nothing in common other than they liked being out in nature. It was simple. It was kind. It almost helped me get rid of the prepper nightmare from the night before.

Foro just did a search to see what preppers are stocking, but I don’t think it’s his thing. Even in the apocalypse, he’ll be cute enough to survive.