What Dreams Are Made Of

Concluding this little story, Angus McCloud’s limo driver was giving me a tour of what looked like Earth sometime in the distant future. Since I was dreaming, I didn’t know it was a dream. I thought the sun had actually entered into the Red Giant phase, a phenomenon that often occurs whenever Yellow Dwarf stars like our sun expend their fuel. The sun would eventually grow and grow and consume Earth and the entire solar system before it died out. But, what puzzled me more than anything in this dream-turned-nightmare, was that the limo driver suggested that there was something I could do about it.

“Well,” I told the driver, “if you think there’s something I can possibly do about all of this, tell me what it is.”

“I’ll tell you,” he said in an accusatory tone of voice, mixed in with that Middle-Eastern accent that was beginning to get on my nerves. “I’ll tell you what you can do, Mr. Bugos.”

“Spit it out,” I urged him.

“What you can do is...” he began.

And then I woke up.