Post-Apocalypse Shopping

I dreamed that I was in a Northern Chinese city. The place was up in Hebei province – smog capital of, possibly, the whole world. Now, there are modern, all built up, skyscraper riddled burgs in Hebei province but this anxiety-mare featured a bombed out, post apocalyptic landscape.

I’d boarded a trolley in my exurban digs, hoping to see what was left of the nearby big, ruin of a town, maybe even do some shopping. Huh, public transport and tourism survived devastation? Interesting little apocalypse we’ve got here.

I was a wee bit panicky in that, on arrival, I’d not hit the currency exchange – how would I pay for the ride into town. Also how, as your basic deaf, non-Mandarin speaking xiyáng guizi (west ocean devil) would I convince the conductor that he just HAD to, despite my lack 'o' bread, get me into what was left of the city.

No worries though – no one came to collect the fare. I watched the other riders and exited at the same time as the largest group. Getting lost in a crowd – always a good strategy.

Lining the ravaged avenues, where glorious steel and glass towers used to stand, were tents. The tony financial district was now a bazaar. All very Bladerunner–esque

Interestingly and also similar to that beloved movie ‘o’ mine, commerce, of a less high-flying, more survivalist nature had survived and was thriving during annihilation.

Despite a dearth of Yuan, I managed the shopping feat (I musta been charming the shit outta the vendors, eh?). As the closing credits rolled, our hero (MOI!) is seen struggling with a great armload of swag, wondering why the fuck she hadn’t brought along one of her capacious grocery sacks.
‘the fuck’s this nocturnal movieola all about? Fear of the unknown? In it, I was a stranger in a strange land. I was wholly unprepared and yet, I managed just fine and dandy.

The bombed out landscape? That could, possibly, be how I see the landscape of my post-TAB life. I’m a bleak, bitter hull without that man. And yet…and yet, in this dream, I’m up, functioning, exploring AND dazzling shop keeps into trading their wares for smiles.

Huh. Moral to the story?
Where there's life, there's hope of happy?
Where life persists there's the possibility of thick, Turkish-cotton bath towels and 1,200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets?
I'm alive so I should take a damn chance? Yes, all life truly does come down to an Abba song.