Only The End Of The World Again

Last night I had a dream that I was the only one who saw the end of the world. And I didn't want to wake from it.

I was out in a field with hundreds of other workers, picking berries or tilling soil or planting seeds, as was my job then. A tight, pulsing trail of fire leapt up into the sky, bright against the starlit backdrop. It swirled in a giant loop, burning so dominantly that there was nothing but absolute nothing in its wake. Slowly, the fire descended from the sky. I knew, somehow, that we were the last people on Earth, however long such a thing could be true and boasted about. Everything the fire touched was devoured - the field, the soil, all the workers that were standing around me, one by one, some not even aware of what was happening. The fire came for me last, slower than ever it moved. I stood there amazed, eyes wide open, staring with struggling confidence and hopeless curiosity. I watched it swirl in small circular patterns as it approached me. I just stared, and stared, and...