Christopher hates looking at sunsets. For lots of reasons, he guesses. After all, a sunset was the last thing he ever saw in the Old World. Remember, the one over Lake Michigan, right before Senna was nearly dry-swallowed by a giant wolf? Yeah, he remembers it too. Christopher associates sunrises with Senna, betrayal, the complete mindfuck that is Everworld, and the really bright light that annoys the fuck out of him when he's hungover. Nothing good.
Christopher is a TV junkie. He's seen more movies than should be humanly feasible, and he knows what sunrises are supposed to symbolize. New beginnings, and surviving, yadda yadda. He doesn't care. People seem to forget that all a sunrise really means is that there's going to be a sunset sometime in the future.
Sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the days, cha cha cha. Mazoltov!
God. He has to stop hanging out with April.
It's really all about cycles. Circles. Going from A to B, from B to C, from C to sudden death, unless someone throws in a side trip to torture and destruction.
Christopher wakes up in David's bed. He can see the sunrise through the window, and the only thing it looks like to Christopher is the beginning of the end.