I Survived The Rapture — With No Thanks to Kirk Cameron
What you’re about to read here is true — not one thing altered for dramatic purposes, the gospel truth.
I lived through The Rapture. And Kirk Cameron left me for dead. And that is actually what occurred in my dream last week.
But first let me start with a brief orientation into the noggin that is mine.
I happen to be a Professional World Class Nonsensical-Dreaming Crackpot.
I have never had a normal — classified “textbook” — dream in my life.
My dreams are like Salvador Dali paintings — which have been syndicated and reran on low budget for the USA Network.
And if my dreams were indicative of my sanity, I’d be typing this blog post with my big toe — while my arms lay folded in a straight jacket. Which might look, yes, crazy.
I want to be normal. I do. I want to have normal dreams like normal people about normal things like (1) losing my teeth in the bathroom sink or (2) walking into a work meeting naked or (3) forgetting to show up to my final exam for a class I haven’t attended since 1992.
These dreams sound fun. They seem . . . normal.
Last week I was almost struck by a tornado. In my dream I was. There was a tornado coming toward my home.
This is my childhood home — hit by a tornado. I don’t like to mess around with tornadoes.
That’s why the tornado in my dream was particularly terrifying. So that’s why I called up my neighbor — to see if I could take shelter in his basement. I didn’t have a basement, you see. Of course I didn’t. I bet I had fourteen bathtubs in my living room, an elevator in my kitchen — but no basement.
Oh, and it happened that my neighbor was Kirk Cameron.
Only, Kirk was too busy to get the phone. He was downstairs working in his recording studio on a new song for the upcoming Growing Pains reunion. And by New Song, I mean Old Song. But Dream-Angie didn’t know the difference.
Finally Kirk’s assistant answered the phone. Could I come over to wait out the tornado? A big pause. Followed by intense discussion with Kirk in his recording studio. No, I guess Kirk is far too busy for guests right now.
Would I check back by texting him later? Yes, I suppose I could do that.
The tornado was of course still coming toward my house. And since I’ve never sent a text message before (!), I was feeling a tad stressed about the fact that my life now hinged on (1) my ability to send a text message and (2) Kirk Cameron cutting a successful remix of As Long As We’ve Got Each Other.
After waiting for what may be estimated as an hour in dream-time and upon realizing my phone could not send a text message because it was in fact a calculator, I opted to give up on Kirk and seek shelter at the house of my other neighbor.
Who happened to be Susan from Eight is Enough.
Who happened to be extremely nice. In fact, I would nominate Susan for #1 Nicest Bradford Girl if not for the fact that Joanie was quite awkward looking and therefore seemed much more accessible.
But at this particular moment, Joanie was not around — probably off remaking the Eight is Enough song.
Susan said I could come over. And I did — and that’s when I noticed there wasn’t a basement in Susan’s house either. But lots of stairs to her second floor. Susan reassured me that “scientists” now believe you are safer on a staircase in the case of a tornado — something about air current moving in a counter-clockwise rotation that runs opposite to a flight of stairs.
It was all so very confusing. And confusing doesn’t work well in my dreams.
In the end, I awoke. And by “awoke”, I mean — I survived. I survived The Rapture, everyone!
Because it was upon waking that I remembered Kirk Cameron’s movie — his signature 2001 pet project film, Left Behind.
Left Behind — The End of Days, people!
And then it all became clear. It was not a tornado. The tornado was just a metaphor. No, it was The Rapture. And I survived!
Or, sure, you could also say I was left behind.
I have to wonder though whether Kirk made it out alright.
I’d like to hope he survived. Or something. He seems like a nice enough guy. Or something. Hopefully he found a nice sturdy staircase to cling to.
Because it’d be tragic to think about how he spent his final hours.