Strawberry Milk

Over the course of a generally feverish night, I dreamed of nuclear annihilation. The first time, I was in Chicago and saw a mushroom cloud sprout up over the lake. I think it was the middle of last year's DemiSummit. The second time, I was further from the blast and got to watch the war unfold, at least metaphorically; I saw bright lights zipping back and forth inside a cup of milk. When the lights died out, the milk turned pink.