Do you ever have a dream that is so real, you wake up convinced that it really happened? And no, not the I dreamt I was falling and woke up on the floor dreams, I mean the ones where it was so real, larger than life…like you had fallen into a cinematic masterpiece and found yourself in the lead role. Oh, if that had been the case, I could have sat back, and enjoyed my cerebral decent into hell with some glimmer of hope buried in the unconscious part of my brain that I would wake at some point.
But no…this was no dream and you may think hell is too strong a word, but…it was hell. Fire, brimstone, smoke everywhere, the screams of the damned all wailing to be heard over the ear-splitting DJ. Every drink on the menu involved some greater or lessor demon’s name from one piece of literature or another…and fire…with alcohol…you can draw your own conclusions about the brightness of that idea. I digress.
If this hell-club wasn’t as close to purgatory as I could imagine already, the jet-black hair, black lipstick and eyeshadow that looked like a three-year old found their mother’s makeup for the first time pushed the whole experience right over the edge and into the lava-filled abyss. My decent into this goth-filled madness was only made worse by the platform heels…yes, to my great shame, I wore six-inch platform heels.
Maybe this was a warning…or a sign of things to come, a taste of what eternity holds for me. One thing I know for sure, it will take ages to wash the black color from my hair.
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