I'm Driving in the Desert

I am driving in the desert,
Not one in the South East of England where I live,
You see, I created this one,
And placed myself in it,
I’m clever like that.
But I did not make up the triangle of light on the horizon.

It’s hot here, I must be dreaming,
All wrapped up in my duvet with the radiator on,
I’ll wake up in sweats later,
Then have to flip my pillow over.
The haze from the sand impedes my vision.
I feel like I can control myself,
So maybe this is just a thought,
Not a dream, as I first perceived it.
The light on the horizon is getting bigger,
I cannot control it – this is definitely a dream.
It is unnerving me.
The lights aren’t just lights, are they?
It looks like there is something behind them –
The craft follows the triangle shape of the lights,
And is green, like copper on the turn.

The aliens have a thriving industry,
Brought about by an ore-rich planet,
10 billion-zillion miles away.
This must be a dream,
How else could I premeditate their story?
How else can I conclude this is an alien ship?

So the dream then – must be a dream.
Well, ok, technically the only thing I can say it is not is reality,
But I can smell fuel.
I mean, what did I expect? Are aliens any different than us?
They came to consciousness on a planet full of elements,
Of course they used natural resources to spark an industrial revolution.
Animals degraded to leave deposits of oil,
A process identical to Earth.

So I’ve stopped the car. I’m not shaking in my boots,
But I can’t feel my feet.
My long wave radio is hissing and crackling back at me,
As I try to radio base – I don’t really know how to work it,
Seeing as this isn’t my car,
And it definitely didn’t have a radio in it when I picked it up.
What the hell is ‘base’?
This craft is massive,
And it emits only the low hum of a tropical aquarium.
I don’t know how fast it can move,
But it’s the shape of a Toblerone,
So suffice it to say that it doesn’t use conventional physics.
All the while my dream gets in the way of me actually moving,
So I wrench myself sideways in my seat, and slowly open the door.

I notice for the first time that
There are other cars on the highway –
They weren’t in my mirrors.
The desert does funny things to light though.
Look at me; I’m into it now.
It could be real, I suppose.
So the scene is set;
Cars, equidistant on the highway,
Men and women stood at their bonnets looking up,
This ship, smelling of diesel, but purring like a golf cart,
Just poised.

And then all the songs play at once.
All of them,
And I might have realised why I’m dreaming about this.

Lower this behemoth comes,
And I’m looking at the sand, and it isn’t moving.
There is no shadow,
Like I haven’t remembered to fill it in.
Suddenly, a decompression, and a panel on the craft stirs,
Basically the same as every alien spacecraft I’ve ever seen.
The gate touches the sand about 20 metres from my feet,
And of course, these things are silhouettes to start with –
God, my unconscious mind is so hackneyed.

Who makes the first move?
I take a glance at the other cars,
Surprisingly, they are still there,
I expected them to have disappeared.

The figures in the doorway stir;
They move slowly, but with purpose –
Very important for setting the scene
And building the tension.
Typically, I cannot move, and the vagaries of this situation
Overcome me like that of so many dreams past –
You know, that surging feeling;
Then you wake up with a start and forget how it ended.
Something in the back of my mind, however,
Reminds me of times when I’ve felt that surging feeling
In real life –
Usually just before something hits me very hard.

Continuing their move towards me,
They do not flinch when they touch the hot sand.
Their bodies are made of Teflon or something.
I mean, this is all about to go off, he is REALLY close to me now,
But I don’t remember him taking a single step.

His bulbous eyes are unblinking,
And have no tangible soul,
Especially for a human who’s used to,
Well, pupils, irises, eyebrows, all that lark.
My sweaty top lip must have looked ridiculous to him,
I suppose.
Did they have to be grey?
How disappointing;
I’ve exhausted my imagination on this,
And they’re bloody grey.

Just then, his eyes, and the eyes of his buddies behind him,
Start glowing an eerie red,
Just in the centre, and subtle.
They still haven’t said anything.
The lead alien opens his mouth, followed by the others,
They cock their heads right back.
Have you ever seen light come from something’s mouth?
It makes no sense whatsoever, believe me,
But white light and a high, whining sound? This just takes the biscuit.
Then white. Just white.

‘...Spaceman... I always wanted you to go
Into space maaaaaaannnnnn...’
That’s my radio, presumably.
Heart FM is so shit in the morning...
Actually, Heart is shit all the time,
So I slam my hand onto the snooze button;
That’s about as panicked as I’ve been in the last seven hours.
My eyes open to the curtains blowing in the breeze just behind my head.
My apathy for the situation with the aliens
Has extended to the real world,
Which is strange,
As I don’t dream much, so when I do,
I get excitable.
My own little bit of magic which I imagine and star in.

All is normal this morning;
Egg and toasty soldiers for breakfast,
Sky the colour of alien flank,
Bit of a drizzle,
All is normal.
Except something’s definitely been messing with my anus.