I had a dream last night that the sun would be crossing precariously close to the earth and we would all be burned to death in seconds. I remember standing around with my family (mostly my brother and my mother) hugging and telling each other that we loved them and that we were glad we were all together for the end (even if we were all going to experience it individually and that, in my opinion, is the worst thing about dying. Incidently, that's the worst thing about rolleroasters too). Anyway, moments before I remember telling my mom that I'd "see her on the other side."
The other side was curiously like this one.
The first thing I did was try to find my car among a somewhat-deserted heaven. Mine was missing, but someone left a broken key in the ignition of an MB or an Alfa Romeo or something, so I had a new car with the driver's side on the right. Did I worry that I was not in the driver's seat while living but that I was now, or did I submit to the higher power in the passenger seat? Hard to say.
The theme of my life lately has been about loss, mostly in my dreams. I have been reading a book on meditation (the irony, huh?), and it talks a lot about how there's nothing to fear because everything changes constantly. When we experience joy or orgasm or sadness, it's only fleeting. We cannot place permanance on anything, and this revelation should set us free.
That may be well and good, but I'm still afraid of being burned to death by the sun, no matter how fleeting it is.

I'm writing a short story based loosely on the concept of fetus in fetu, twin inside a twin. It's a rare condition where an underdeveloped twin, without brains and other organs, lives as a parasite in the other twin's body. Usually it is treated as a tumor and removed, for the parasitic activity is considered harmful.
My in fetu twins have a symbiotic relationship in one body. I think it's my best story to date. Pubilshers, are you listening?