The day Robin Williams died

I dreamt of nuclear annihilation last night.

standing in my parents dining room, my gaze instinctively shifted to the treeline upon hearing the telltale crack from the sky. it was not loud but jarring; nor familiar, but understood. seconds later, the mushroom cloud swelled from beyond the trees, the world falling silent but for its looming. the shockwave still a precious few seconds away, I yelled to my mother to run for the basement, then to my brother, descending the staircase gripped in panic. I knew that, if we lived, this would change everything.

I woke up.