The Dreamer

This story begins where everything ends.
Everything ends because given enough time
that is what happens to everything. All life,
all things in the material world are destined
to destruction if you look far enough down
the timeline. Which end are we speaking
about? Could it be the end of one human
lifetime? Could it be at the end of all human
life and civilization? It can be all these things.
I was the last human on this Earth. Do you
believe me? If you're reading this you might
be wondering how this was possible. If you're
reading this then I suppose I was wrong.
That is unless you are something beyond
human that can comprehend the words of a
feverish and dying man. It came to be that
after civilization ground to a halt and all the
wars and devastation were done that were
few and fewer of us here. At the end I had
not seen proof of another human in 7 years.
Somehow I persisted in this dead and solitary
world. I was weary. I was tired. I had been
suicidal. Living, being what it is, is a hard
habit to break. So I lived. I lived and searched
to the fullest extent I could. I roamed and
searched and searched and searched. The
years began to stretch behind me like a dead
tail I kept dragging around. The ghosts of
everyone haunted me in my sleep and in
the shadows of day. I grew to question my
very existence but even that was not enough
to end it. Why would it? Instinct and hope
kept pushing me further and further. Yet,
here I am. Believing myself to be the last
of us. As far as I know, I am. Generations
upon generations of cumulative success and
failure in the hands of a dying man. How
much more can I say? What more can I say?
It is not possible to sum up all my thoughts
on what I have lived and suffered, nor
enough time or space to give any eulogy
or write an epitaph for all of us. When we
fall asleep we dream. Now I must sleep.
And in this sleep I will roam forever. I am
going home. I am going home to see you
all again.