Yes, pools filled with margaritas.
Oh Tandy.
Not necessarily “last man on earth.” But I do sometimes daydream about an event significant enough that I don’t have to work anymore. Like, a collapse of society as we know it type of thing.
You’ll still have to work but now instead of going to the grocery store, you’ll have to hunt mutated sewer rats prowling the streets and roast them over a burning trash can grill.
Nope. I’ve fully accepted that in whatever extinction level event I’ll be gone in the first couple waves, and that’s how I want it.
I’ve got no skills to be able to survive on this planet alone. I’d just be prolonging my suffering, and I feel very little need to do that.
Fantasies??? Please, I have plans!!!
Hell yes. Night of the Comet will always be a favorite for me. The idea of having damn near any material stuff you could want combined with hardly any other people around sounds like paradise. Don’t at me with the reality of things cause those don’t factor into my fantasy.
Fantasies? No.
Nightmares? Also no.
Just from the time I wake up until about 8pm when I finish work.
I wonder how much I could sleep until I got satisfied… I imagine it’s a couple years
I did in my youth and then at some point I swapped over to hoping I go out early and painlessly if a massive terrible something happens.
On the one hand, sure I guess?
But see also, “Y, the Last Man” for why being literally the last man on earth isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, or Five from “The Umbrella Academy” for an object lesson in why being alone for decades in a post-apocalyptic hellscape isn’t the best thing for your mental health.
I want to be a post-apocalyptic horse nomad…but not alone. And I’m not a man. So no.
I’m pretty sure I’d starve to death in at most a year, if something else didn’t get me first.
There are two scenarios that realistically goes down and neither are something I fantasize about:
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I am the last man on Earth as in the only person left. Everyone I care about is gone, I am alone and doing what is needed to survive by myself is a nightmare. Any current or future major medical issues probably go mostly untreated.
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I am the only man on Earth. Women haven’t been wiped out. About half the people I care about are gone. Humanity realistically isn’t long for this world due to the severe genetic bottleneck that would result. And while this would likely not be as bad as only 1 woman remaining in a world full of men, itd still be bad for me and anyone I was romantically interested in. And even if somehow things didnt immediately become forced breeding stock nightmare fuel, I don’t want the whole planet’s attention on me.
I dont fantasize about being the last man on Earth. I fantasize about having enough financial security to be able to persue my interests without worrying about what I will do for a living.
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“5,271,009” by Alfred Bester has one of the best reverses on the Last Man scenario.
I sometimes have Last Man on a Pacific Island fantasies. Making fire with a fire bow, spearing fish for food, weaving stripped coconut leaves for shelter…
