Big Johnny Walker

I'm sorry if this late, I couldn't remember if the Deadline was 4, or 8.

Big Johnny Walker

Johnny awoke from his dream knowing life could never be the same. This hardworking good ole American dream could never prepare for what he had just experienced. From his many years of watching television in between beers, he had seen at least the premise of a "dream within a dream" but being one who generally didn't remember his dreams, he cast it off as "clever holly wood writers."

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Was that it? Am I, am I still asleep?"

He sat upright in his bed and lit the pre-rolled cigarette next to his alarm clock, staring into the Gulf of Mexico. He noticed for the first time the way the shadows in the water could easily mistaken for behemoths of unimaginable terror, then turned to calm his queasy stomach.

"Am I really awake now. Am I finally out of that horrible dream?"

He focused his question at the empty wall of the room, almost expecting them to talk back. Why not, they'd done it already tonight.

Eight times? How the hell do you wake up eight times without actually waking up? Is this all a dream too then? Don't you have the answer?"

Spittle flew onto the screen of the television, dribbling down its emptiness.

"Don't you?"

The sun rose higher over the bay, the first beams slithering towards him.

"Don't you?"

The mirror reflected back only a psychotic hurling an ashtray.

"That's not my face? That can't be my face, how can I trust you when you've already shown me eight different faces and made me believe everyone of them was real!"

The sun became a full moon and Johnny marveled at how it was a peculiarly nice day already, and why shouldn't it be, he told the wind rushing by his face as the ground rushed up to wake him.