Thar Shaddin

It began as I was travelling around a residential area, on foot, that must have been south of eglington either a bit to the east or west of yonge such that I knew the type of area but had never been there before. In front of basically every house was a dead cow, or perhaps a few of them were horses. It was disgusting, with flies and maggots and, although my dreams have no smell, i knew that the foul air around the carcasses must have been diseased so i tried to avoid breathing it.
I remember a little girl in a window, moulatto with brown skin and frayed unkempt black (like african) hair looking out a window. Her family was with her but i don't remember what they looked like. I came close and they hid inside so I couldn't ask them what was happening. I remember feeling like there were others walking with me but I don't remember anyone else actually being there.
I had to know why there were dead animals everywhere, why people were leaving rotting corpses in front of their houses. Somehow I knew it was global insanity and I had to find out for sure if that was the case, and why. I reached what must have been an unexplored part of yonge or some other major street. I forget what other people on the street were like, but I went into a corner store to ask the owner what was going on. It was literally on a corner and had glass windows on two sides, with nothing inside the store except a counter where the guy was standing. There were other people but they said nothing and I don't recall their faces.
I asked the man what was happening, and his response is fuzzy in my mind. Something about an attack, about how it was happening again to us because that's how it started. Aliens. First on other worlds that had humans, and now this one.
I went outside and walked down the main street. Two thugs, hip hop gangster styles, one brown one black, were heading my way and I knew what was coming, I knew it meant trouble. The black one approached me, getting really close, and demanded money from me. I did my best to plead with him and I told him I didn't have any. I had to show him that it was true, because somehow I knew my money was worthless to him. I took out my wallet and showed him the five and twenty dollar bills inside, and he got really mad. It wasn't the kind of money he needed, he needed whatever they used in the future, probably inflation or something. I don't know.
They got mad and I forget exactly what happened next. They probably wanted to kill me and I fought back. Fights in my dreams are never anything like fights, they always involve plain emotions without physical interaction that makes any sense. I was scared, and I fought them somehow, and I ended up folding the brown guy's fingers back against his hand, the way you would in a mercy fight but I was using both hands and his fingers were right back against the back of his hand. He was in a lot of pain, I knew, but he was only expressing mild discomfort. His friend looked at me then, and I knew it was over because I couldn't take them both.
Thats when the brown guy became Smithers from the simpsons and was attacked by bees. "aah, bees!" he said in that voice of his. "I'm allergic to bees!" The bees covered his whole face and most of his body, and I felt the security of having won the fight. Everyone else became simpsons characters, an the scenery changed to match. Everyone had a few bees on them, a bit on their face in clumps and on their bodies. Nobody really seemed to mind much, but I hate bees, the way they swarm and hover menacingly.
I was in a bus and it was night. The bus was drawn like a cartoon, like the simpsons, but it felt real enough. Someone, I think Homer, was sad and depressed and I comforted him by explaining that bowlers (like the sport) who played on real grass weren't the only kind of bowlers. Just because real-grass bowlers were crack addicts didn't mean he couldn't find someone else.
As I said that the bus passed a supermarket of some kind and I could see a woman facing away from the bus wearing a summer shirt that showed her bare back. She was using one of the rubber conveyer belts for groceries to bowl. Somehow I knew she was a crack addict too, like all bowlers were.
After that it gets fuzzy and I wake up.