I recently read a piece of fiction about the slowing rotation of the earth. Last night’s dream played on this theme.
I was sherpa-ing a group of Tibetan men through NYC. Donned with backpacks filled with outdoor gear, walking sticks and bandannas, we set out through the gritty, grimy streets of Manhattan (somewhat reminiscent of pile from back in the day). As an ominous darkness fell over us, the oldest traveler looked up from his path and said: “It has begun.” I gazed around the city that had already begun to fall and a slow panic started to bubble in my stomach.
I woke up anxious.