A page in the encyclopedia of experience:
Yesterday the sun rose sleepily, as if it was already on its way out; the haze from fires that had been burning in the Anaheim Hills for several hours tinted even the morning's crispness, coloring everything in a soft golden hue. It was an odd feeling; somewhat like having translucent yellow plastic wrap over your eyes. On the news later that evening, I watched as firefighters and policemen attempted to gain control of a situation that seemed so far away. I think it felt that way because, though I've passed by the area a number of times, I'm not really sure that I know anyone there...
I felt for the people trying to evacuate, their trauma being made into a media spectacle, today's breaking story. A reporter attempted to ask a girl (who was in the process of evacuating) how she was dealing with having to pack up her home, possibly permanently, in 15 minutes. He asked how she was choosing things to take, and I couldn't help but wonder if this 30 second soundbyte was going to cost her something more valuable than making the 10:00 news.
This morning I was relieved to look outside and see clarity in the sky. It seems these dreams resolve themselves; strange days do come to an end, and the confusion of things that should not be dissolves along with the urgent voices that constantly scream that today is the only reality we'll ever know.