I had a dream of living through the apocalypse. The sun became hotter than it ever was and we began to boil. Every method was ineffective. Every measure a meager stopgap. Our lives were over but we fought on as humanity tends to do. Even as hope died for many, we fought on. The rivers dried up and the oceans became too warm for comfort. The corpses dried up and blew away in the desert winds of the coasts. It was only after many had already died that the second and third sun appeared in the sky, occasionally blinking and shifting their white hot attentions to certain people. The bugs came after. Horrendous and cruel, they wanted our flesh, but more, they wanted our pain. They ignored the meat already dead and toyed with those they took. Not that they needed to. One bite was enough. Enough to inflict you with the spores to seek out more of them. Lost like insects infected with cordrecyps fungus, forced to lose yourself and do as hidden by the foreign biology now within you, believing always that you were in control. Those afflicted would find the bugs and willingly die as the two suns in their alien sky sometimes laughed. In the end humanity became shambling and worthless. Surviving for nothing more than survival, with each person worth no more than a diseased piece of meat once a bug had touched you. Something to be thrown away at the earliest opportunity. And in a dark building some of us found a staircase leading up forever into the light. We found hope. We climbed for so long that some died just from the climb. Our legs strengthened and our arms tired. The bugs were always below as we climbed miles up the infinite stair. And at the top was a golden door, ahining with the light of a thousand angels and humming with a power that might make everything right.
And the door would not open. The higher powers had abandoned us to save themselves. We were alone. In that moment the final shredsof humanity's hope died. As, shortly after, did we...
So... Probably done with sleep tonight.