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Two nights ago, I had quite a vivid dream. I’ll attempt to relay it back in as much detail as I can remember.

Imagine the Galapagos islands. I was sitting on one of them, to be sure. On the beach. It wasn’t a California beach, with bikinis and sand and sun. It wasn’t that plastic, if you know what I mean. It was a dull day and everything was monochrome. There were some other people, but they mostly kept to themselves. I was probably a bit younger, maybe 12 or 13.

The funny thing about this beach was the lizards. There were tons of them, crawling through the cracks in the pebbles. And they peacefully coexisted with the beach-goers, even though they were poisonous. There were actually two species, one that was poisonous and one that wasn’t. But I wasn’t sure which one was which. Then I got the brilliant idea to pick one up and play with it. Guess what it did? It bit me, but not every hard. It didn’t have very substantial teeth. Anyways, I determined that this lizard was of the non-poisonous variety and I wasn’t in any sort of trouble. Cool I thought. So I got up and started playing with all the lizards. Silly me. I picked one up, not realizing that this one was of the poisonous variety. And guess what it did? Heh, it sure as hell bit me. And it hurt every bit as much as the first bite. But then I realized what I had done. Great fucking job, Andrew. You just got bit by a fucking poisonous lizard, and now you’re going to die. Today. Twenty-four hours from now I’ll be dead. Ah, but what to do in my next twenty-four hours?

I told my mom. Well, I imagine she got pretty damn flustered, but I didn’t remember it. I remember hopping in the vehicle (I don’t think it was a car), and zipping as fast as we could to some city. It reminded me of Cloud City in Star Wars, but more majestical. We were visiting some doctor. It wasn’t any old doctor in a white coat though. He was more zen than that. Apparently, he was pretty good at saving people from deadly lizards. So I was given some exercises and blah blah but I kind of glazed over. I wanted to get out. To be free. To do it. Yes, do it. One thing was for sure, I intended on not being a virgin when I died. That led me to a problem. I was close to dead, maybe 5-6 hours. Not showing many signs of it though, it was just kind of a looming destiny of mine. Now it was a burning desire. I had to do it. But who would do it with me? Shit, I dunno. I didn’t want any old person either. Someone special. And just as I was figuring that out, I woke up. I was so relieved to be alive. Funny how that happens.

And now, an analysis. I was being perfectly candid. Again, I think this falls in with human nature and our instincts. I had to leave a trace. Leave something to this world. And offspring sure do that job rather handily.

Now here’s your challenge. Take it from Ah, but what to do in my next twenty-four hours? Write your story. What would your final deed be? How would you live out your final moments?