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 A Dream about the AntiChrist

Scene 1: I see a man working in the back kitchen of Pizza Hut. I can’t perceive exactly what he is doing with his hands, or what it is he is handling. But, I hear my own voice say, “I will never eat there again.”

Scene 2: I am walking down a trail that leads to a bridge, through a market area, and to a cheap restaurant where I often eat. I am hungry. I look up and see a flock of birds flying overhead in a V formation. They are ducks or geese, I guess. Above them, the clouds are grey. In some places, white portions are illuminated brightly where the cloud cover is thinner. The light breaking through is enough to keep the day just a bit brighter than dusk. A light wind blows and the drizzle falling from the clouds comes down at a slant.

I continue to watch the ducks when I see a bolt of lightning break from the clouds. It arcs to the side, strikes the lead duck, and follows most of the duck line nearest to me. That entire side of the V seems to disappear. The bolt of lightning passes beyond the end of the formation into the sky, but does not hit the ground.

The burned bodies fall to ground around me, on both sides of the pathway. I bend down and lift one. As I ponder how to drain the blood so I can eat it, I suddenly notice it is headless and de-feathered already. Only some thin trails of smoke waft up from the blackened skin.

I wonder about the other ducks. Then, I hear the voice of the Holy Spirit, “Take only one. The others are for other people.”

 Just then, I look up and see something larger and black falling. It originates from a point behind the area of sky where the ducks were hit. The flat, black rectangular object rotates and tumbles slowly, but falls fast. It hits the ground and I am suddenly next to it. I did not see where it landed. And, as I see the zippered canvas material, there is no background behind it. My eye level is just slightly above the bag. I watch as the bag unzips.

Inside is the face of the man who had been in the kitchen, doing something to the food. He has an even, tan colored skin devoid of any marks or blemishes. But, the color is not typical of any particular race. The closest racial approximation I can think of is Iranian. He has raven black hair and raven black eyebrows, but no other facial hair. His hair is thick, shiny, and combed back. Because of my low angle, I can only see his left eye. The eye is open and the ball rotates so he is looking at me. But, his head does not move with the eye. A low smile is on his lips. I shift my weight away from him.

I hear the Holy Spirit again, “He wants the unadopted ducks.”

End of Dream