something post strange dream thingie

so i was thinking about my strange dreams again, and started writing this dribble. it's like... a post-post apocalypse dribble. like, the main character's settled down now with a kid of his own and is living a normal life, only to... well, you'll see when you read it.

note: in my strange dreams, they're all in my point of view, and i'm called by the people in them by name. when i turn these dreams into a story, i will be changing the names and tweeking characters a bit to make the story flow much more naturally than the choppy bits and pieces i've got at the moment.

enjoy.

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 A canvas sat on the large antique drawing table. The table itself tilted

beneath the light of the ceiling fan. The middle aged man sighed, putting his brush

down and reached across his chest to massage his left shoulder.
 "Are you alright papa?" a boy asked. He couldn't have been more than

ten if even a day.
 He smiled at the boy and pushed up his glasses. "Just a bit of arthritis

is all, Kaleb," he said, continuing to work his shoulder. "Be a dear and fetch me

the medicine."
 The boy nodded, getting up and putting the tray of paints down in his

chair. When he returned a few minutes later, he held out the bottle and a glass of

water.
 "Good boy," he said, taking the items from him. His paint covered

hands quickly took two pills from the bottle and popped them into his mouth,

washing them down with the water.
 "Are you sure you're alright?" the boy asked again, his round face so

full of concern.
 He laughed. "Of course I am," he said. "Time for a break anyway.

How about we clean up and go have some lunch. There's still some pizza left

from dinner last night."
 The boy grinned.
 "But first, we'll need to put the paints away. We don't want them drying

out now, do we?"
 Together they put away the paints, then took the brushes into the

kitchen with them to be cleaned. The man made sure the boy had even scraped

the paint from under his fingernails before they reheated the pizza to eat.
 "Papa," the boy said as they were eating. "What's it like on the

surface?"
 "Who put that idea in your head?" he asked in reply.
 The boy looked down at his plate and stared at it, knowing he'd said

something wrong.
 "Go on now, spit it out," he said.
 The boy nodded and looked back up, but his eyes stayed down on his

food. "Well, Jannette and Patrick from school said that the picture their mom

bought from you was pretty. With a giant pool surrounded by dirt and these big

tall green things sticking up out of the ground," he said, taking a bite from his

pizza slice, then started talking with his mouth full.
 "Chew and swallow before you speak Kaleb," he said.
 The boy did as he was told before he tried to talk again. "Well, Jannette

said that her mom said that it was from the surface. And the big things sticking out

of the ground are called trees."
 He nodded. "That's right," he said. "They are. And the big pool is

called a lake. The dirt around the lake is called a shore." He licked his fingers as

he finished off his slice of pizza.
 "Is that really what the surface looks like, papa?"
 "When I was your age," he said, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

"But not anymore."
 "What happened?"
 "Well-"
 The front door opened, and the man looked up as the boy turned in his

seat to see who it was.
 "Daddy!" the boy exclaimed and was about to jump up to greet the

man who came through the door.
 "Ah. Kaleb, finish your lunch first," the man said as he rose from the

table.
 "Yes papa," the boy muttered as he turned back around to finish his

lunch.
 "You're home early, Nate," he said, comming over to take his briefcase

and put it away.
 "I've just come back for lunch, but I see you two have already eaten."

He looked over at the child before taking the other man by the arm and leaning in

to talk much more quietly. "There's been a situation. One of the probes we sent to

the surface has lost contact."
 "What?" he said, bringing a hand up to his mouth to keep himself from

getting louder. "But that's-"
 "We can't discuss it here. Not around Kaleb. After I leave, drop him

off with Rupert and Linda. We need you in the M Sector."
 "M Sector... no. I won't."
 "Please Daniel," he hissed, using his husband's real name for the first

time in years. "You're the only one who can-"
 "All done!" Kaleb declared proudly, holding up his empty plate.
 The spectacled one turned with a bright smile. "Is there any pizza left in

the fridge?"
 "Uh huh," he replied.
 "Why don't you heat some up for daddy, and you can tell him all about

the painting we're doing for Mrs. Hamilton and her family."
 The boy's smile was large, his eyes bright as he started to do as he was

told. Once he was sure the boy was busy, he turned back to his husband. "One

condition," he said.
 "Name it. I'll get it pushed through immediately."
 "When I'm done with this, no one is to contact me for anything else."
 "I don't like this any more than you do."
 "Promise me Seth. When I've done what they want, no more stupid

military nonsense. I'm a painter, I'm a father, and I'm a husband. Nothing else, you

hear me."
 He nodded, but before he could say anything more, Kaleb put the

warmed up pizza on the table with a bottle of water for his second father.