molasses and ashes

The Symbolic Dream of 2010:

It has almost all faded now, which is what usually happens to all of my dreams, no matter how intense they may be. But let me record the lingering fog (or rather, smoke...) anyway.

Our mutual friend (completely unnecessary side note, but there is a Charles Dickens book titled Mutual Friends - uh, nice try, Charlie, but it sounds pretty lame) threw a cigarette off his balcony. It created a fire - a fire that we knew, immediately, would eventually destroy everything, perhaps even us. My lover and I evacuated like molasses. We knew the danger, we knew the outcome, we knew the inevitable pain of staying, yet we were frozen in our comfort, preparing (or not) to be consumed.

And the destruction was total. And the windows were gone. And I woke without knowing if we became ashes to ashes or not.