Grandpa, I had a dream I was in your log cabin. I stepped outside and the sun sat at noon’s peak in the sky, but it hung low over the earth.
The sun’s flares shot and stretched out like flares and they curved around our atmosphere like a hug. I stood directly below it and it didn’t hurt my eyes. All my friends were there standing solemn and quiet with me. You were there. You sat on your patio in your favorite chair and with your pipe in your mouth you looked up with indifference and lit your pipe up and smoked.
The sun expanded rapidly like a balloon and the people around me panicked and started running into the woods. I stayed below the sun. You stayed smoking and waved to me laughing and smiling.
It dropped quickly into the earth. Something pulled me away and up and over the crashing star and I floated in space. I saw the earth vanish. All the rock and everything had been incinerated. The remaining seven planets slowly adjusted themselves to their new rank.
I looked to my side and you were there. You smiled and still smoked from your pipe. You looked at me and laughed and I smiled too. You pointed at the sun,
“Well, I guess that’s that.”
You took the lead and walked through the nothing of outer space like you found some invisible bridge and I walked slowly behind you. The sun sat suspended in the blackness like it were our light at the end of our tunnel. We walked into the sun.
I woke up in the living room and its rays weaved through the curtains and onto my face.