I am rooming at a hostel with a young, fresh-faced, jet-black curly haired Capricorn girl whom I absolutely adore. I smile even recalling the dream of her. She told me story after story from her oddly charmed life.
One story was of a time when she found herself living with a band of redneck men within a tribe of Inuit people. They begged her to find them white wives, and though she was very young at the time, they had threatened her with gang-rape--which she escaped by cleverly faking insanity. How and why she ended up there was never explained.
Like me, she was a painter, and we spent hours sharing and discussing techniques and ideas.
We would go walking--this charming Capricorn girl and I, with her large black dog down gravely trails into ancient aqueducts which lined the shore.
Suddenly, when we were fairly deep in towards the back of the structure, there was a disturbing rumbling. I grabbed her hand and the dog's leash to pull them back to the entrance lest the ceiling collapse on us.
The earthquake had already coaxed the water loose and it was forming a wave. The wave rose up, and suddenly there appeared a large hanger-like garage where all the hostel guests were present. The wave washed in towards the terrified group and at its crest was a punk-looking fellow (looks just like Spider Jerusalem from Transmetropolitan) wearing a black trenchcoat. With full control of the wave, he began rush towards each individual, listing off their sins and speculating on those to come.
An odd sort of "judgement day", bloodless, but rather apocalyptic.
When my turn came, I was more entertained then terrified.
Apocalyptic Surfer
