Back to the Zombie Apocalypse

Possessing a pretty active mind, my dream life is rather adventurous, detailed, and vivid. Many, many times I have awakened suddenly, very happy to find myself safe and snug in my own bed instead of where I was or what I was doing in my dreams. 

The other night wasn't one of those nights. 

Being that Dad and Mom had my sister and I pretty late in life, my family tree was a strange one. My second cousins were my age, my first cousins were old enough to be my parents, and my aunts and uncles were old enough to be my grandparents. So things were a little weird for anyone else looking in. 

In my dream, I was thrown back in time to when I would have been about 13, by the age my aunts were presented as being. The problem was, I ended up actually being about 26 or 28, but nobody seemed to notice I had suddenly aged 13 to 15 years.

We were on an old parked school bus, which was being converted into a shelter for homeless boys. My Aunt Flo, the super-solid one of my Mom's side of the family, was there and seemed to have some say over the direction of the project. My Aunt Mary, who really did run a home for orphaned boys in Ottawa, was standing outside the bus boarding door. An uncle, who really never existed, and was more a composite of first cousin male role models, was on the bus. He was too young to be their brother, so that chronology was messed up as well. Chronology is very often messed up in my dreams and I think it stems from my weird family structure. 

The thing was, I knew every thing I had just left here in the modern world. I didn't know how I got there; to that point in time. I didn't know how to get back, or even if I could get back. I might have had to live my remaining life out there. I just didn't know. This was all very new and very, very sudden. The worst part was I felt absolutely compelled to tell them what I came from and what the future held in store for humanity. 

So, landing where I should have been 13 by the age my Aunts were presented as made it 1979. My goodness: 1979. Square bodied, unimaginative cars, but big-haired girls trying to mimic Farrah Fawcett. Huge silver-face stereos and boom boxes. Olive green appliances. Disco. Smokey and the Bandit. The Cold War. The advent of digital readouts on clocks and clock radios. No cell phones. No YouTube, Facebook, TikTok, or Twitter. Only land line telephones with coiled wires or pay phones if you were away from home and lucky enough to have change when you needed it. The only video we had was orange-tinged colour TV's. The Price is Right in its heyday. The Dukes of Hazzard. Dallas. So life was simple. Simple, simple, simple. Almost all drama was acted out on television. Absolutely nothing whatsoever like the world we are living in today.

I felt I had a better chance talking to my uncle than my aunts. The fierce compunction to inform him that everything he knew; they knew, was all going to change, and the desire for technology was going to be the vehicle for it. That digital clock radio that he thought was so cool and so cutting edge was going to bring about developments that he absolutely couldn't imagine at the time.

I asked him, "Uncle ******, can I talk to you? I have something really, really, really important to tell you". He agreed, and I beckoned for him to join me in the back of the bus. On the driver's side at the back was a sort of a booth, where the second back seat was turned around to face the rearmost one. Add a table in between and you had pretty much a restaurant booth. We sat down with him in the back seat facing forward and me in the opposite seat facing him. 

Uncle ****** had a small tray of raspberries he was eating. Not the slotted kind that keeps them from spoiling, but a solid one that held juice. As he was eating them in a rather philosophical manner, I was furiously trying to formulate how I was going to go about telling him I was from the future and everything I knew about it. 

He finished his raspberries before I was able to come up with a logical way of delivering my message. He apparently didn't like juice and offered the tray to me in case I wanted it. I eagerly took it and started to sip the juice out of one corner of it, trying to buy myself some more time to be formulate a believable story structure. But how could I? As my mind frantically went over all the details: first, that I was from the future; second, that I had aged 13 to 15 years beyond what I should have been in 1979; and, third, and probably even less believable than time travel, what the world acted like where I came from. 

How was I to tell him that the entire world was just completely shut down in March 2020 over the fear of a virus and everyone was ordered to stay put in their homes away from their businesses, their jobs, their churches and their families? And how they actually obeyed such an order, worldwide? Where it was not unusual to see someone driving their car by themselves wearing a mask over their face. How people had manipulated boys into wanting to be girls and girls into wanting to be boys? How grown men could walk into little girls bathrooms by saying they are actually women? How young people, including professional athletes in their prime of life were dropping dead all over and we were told that was perfectly normal. That a man winning best hair and makeup was newsworthy while that wasn't? How cash was very aggressively being forced out to make way for "digital currency", which really amounted to only virtual currency? How the Book of Revelation was coming to life before our very eyes? 

I just couldn't... There was no way to compress it all into a conversation that could be had in anything that measured less than weeks. The pressure and strain and anxiety got the the best of me and I started to laugh and sob at the same time. I forgot his name; my own uncle's name. Mind you this was a time when craziness got you locked up in an asylum rather than your own social media channel, so I now had that to consider on top of everything else. Who's going to believe anything from a guy who said he was from the future and can't even remember his own uncle's name? It was sort of like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgement Day trying to tell everyone what was coming except now I couldn't even speak.

I awoke, agitated and anxious. For the first time after a bad dream I wasn't glad I woke up here. In my dream I was in a place where (except for my being there) everything was normal. Very normal. Predictable; tomorrow's going to be the same. And the day after that. And the week after that. And the month after that. And the year after that. And the decade after that. And it would be good for everyone. Life was good. You could believe what you were told. Well, for the most part. Nothing was going to change overnight. Boys were definitely boys and girls were definitely girls and nobody had ever heard such insane, non-sensical terminology as 'mis-gendered'. Or, 'stay home, save lives'. 

Even if the ability was real and the risk of being locked up in a mental institution was real I wanted to go back, because if I just kept my mouth shut they'd let me out in a few months into a normal world again. 

This world has gone completely, full Twilight Zone insane. If I didn't believe with all my heart and soul and spirit the Lord is coming soon to fix it all, I'd indeed want to go back to 1979 and stay there if I could. 

Normal is gone. Life as we used to know it has been relegated to history. We are never going back. When the government can do almost anything it wants against the People and get away with it every single time, you know some major paradigm shift has taken place. They no longer answer to us. Justice and accountability in politics are practically legends of yore. Elected and unelected officials alike can take a scandal and twist it around to publicly wag their collective finger at the ones that brought it to light! When you still see people wearing masks over their faces three years after a supposed 'health emergency', you know they've completely lost their ever lovin' minds. They have lost - or even worse: abandoned - the ability to think for themselves. Their minds now belong to something else. Or someone else. They are effectively government zombies. If you don't believe me go to a big city shopping center and the zombie apocalypse will reveal itself to you in a big hurry. The propaganda has been astoundingly effective. Just beyond anything a sound mind could have ever imagined. They wear a mask over their face to feel safe from viruses or germs or bacteria, but touch the exact same things with their bare hands everyone else does. You just can't make crap that insane up, but it is as real as you are and you are witness to it, my friend. When you have to go through the same absolutely bogus, monotonous, mind numbing questions over and over at the hospital, and then sit in plexiglass cattle stantions isolated from even your spouse you came in with, you know a normal life and existence is a thing of the past. People have taken their faith in God to save them and catastrophically put it in man. 

The times have changed, friends. The Bible clearly said they would. Folks, open your eyes. Make no mistake: these are the End Times. The Lord is coming soon, just as He said He would. Get holy before Him and be ready.