Temporal paradox

A temporal paradox is unfolding in a nightmarish city square.

Clocks are melting and swirling around figures frozen in time. The sky is a canvas of twirling galaxies and nebulae, with fragments of historical events flashing before my eyes.

The scene is as if a dream, an hyper-realistic work of impeccable art, with intricate details and vibrant colors, reminiscent of the works of Salvador Dali and H.R. Giger. The overall mood is surreal, chaotic, and thought-provoking...as if happening with a touch of cosmic horror in a 1920's picture show.

Startled...I stood paralyzed with fear, awe and wonder. Why am I the only one able to move.

What exactly is transpiring, what phenomenon was occurring. This was hard to explain to the ordinary layman like myself, what did I know of anomalies in the space time continuum.

People, formally dressed, as if they were attending the Royal Opera House in London, La Scala in Milan, or the Vienna State Opera...Men in long, elegant overcoats and women in chic, figure contouring frocks, stood still in a surreal, yet wildly beautiful Dali portrait.

Maybe I had died and gone to cosmic, mystical lands like Asgard, the realm of the Norse gods, or Mount Olympus, the home of the Greek gods.

I hid myself...fearing that which I did not understand. Yet I needed to know, to be a part of it all. To not be alone!

The world was ending...I panicked...ran out from my clandestine observing unreality, into the still portrait of impossibility.

I moved in between the unmoving forms, the only indication of activity being the wind ruffling their clothing, a violent breeze cascading from the black holed portal in the clouds. It rotated at an unreal angle...Like falling, yet not falling.

Then everything disappeared. Vanished, as if nothing ever existed...Except me.

I spun around and around, much like a confused dog chasing its tail.

The world as I once knew it, was gone. Literally everything was gone, except the trees, the natural forms of nature...and me.

It has now been an entire year, without a trace of human life...anywhere. For I had travelled far and wide to find the answers. There was, thankfully, Lucky, a speckled little dog companion, the first living thing to make my life seem a bit more real.

Sometimes, when Lucky and I lay resting beneath the stars, I wonder if I had imagined it all, was my mind fractured, am I even real. Sensing my discomfiture, the dog barks...as if saying, "What matters is how the memory lives in you...What details you still can recall, what is blurred and what is real". I swear he is human.

Suddenly, I see her walking towards me. An angel dressed in white. I bolt upright. Life...my mind yells.

There is a strange sound. My eyes pop open. It is nurse Victoria...I remember now...or is this a part of the waking nightmare?

"Good morning Phillipe, how are those dystopian fantasies treating you today. Have people returned to earth as yet"?

Sigh!