Will Bueché



I don't blog much 

Wacky Dream

Posted in Dream by Will on Friday, April 17th, 2009 ~ 11pm

I had a dream with the time-compression common to fiction dreams (or movies), with months (or certainly weeks) depicted in minutes.

I dreamed that unseen aliens attacked the Northern US, killing and burying everyone who was not working. People on romantic dates, people listening to music, killed. The aliens were like the American Taliban in that respect, though it was not clear at first who they were wiping out (nor was it clear why they were only doing it in the North), and it was eventually figured out they were not against music. Evidently they were killing people who had no actual labor function, and the murder sweeps were a correction of overpopulation — which didn’t make them seem any less evil. Like in the movie Signs, people were hiding in groups, though in attics and basements a bit less often than you’d suspect. Some people were fleeing to the South on trains. Northerners were immigrants within their own country.

After initially fleeing South I went North again to find if my parents had perished. I found my neighborhood, and found that entire stretches of backyards had been turned into dirt graveyards. The aliens had put upon the soil death-masks, or stone representations of faces, of each person they’d killed since they did not know names. So the dirt, set with these stone faces every six feet, looked as if countless people’s faces were turned up to the sky, but with eyes shut.

[Sidenote: As macabre as this dream was, this is actually a rather nice idea for graveyards. The rain would eventually turn the faces into smooth stones, and perhaps that would be a way to represent who are the newly dead and who are all-but-forgotten].

Many neighbors were still alive though (the spared) and had started cataloging the people (whom they knew) and had put names on laminated cards, so people could look through cards rather than look at the stone representations. I saw the names of neighbors, but did not see my family name, but everything was so disorganized I could not be sure. Likely the cards were just not alphabetized, so I was very upset, expecting to see my parents names there any moment as I looked through.

Later I learned from a cell phone call that my mother was still alive. I tried to explain to her that I was both in the South, safe, and in the North, and could shift my attention between the two locations as if I were really there. This confused and upset her. She put my sister on the line.

I didn’t explain this yet, but when I went back North I only sent part of myself there. Remember this was a dream.

For a few days in the South I was with a group of guys who did not mind my lie that I wasn’t from up North (I told them I’d been traveling and had been mugged of my change of clothes and such; they knew this was a lie, that Northerners had fled with nothing but what they were wearing). Later I was still hiding, with a few older people, in an attic-space that was sealed off by a wooden crawlspace door that blended well enough with the wall to hopefully not be observed. The ceilings were extra thick with yellow insulation, so possibly no heat from our bodies could be detected. Not enough protein to eat, but the tap in this attic-like space still had running water from a small tap, and there was cheese and eggs from birds sometimes. One or two people at a time would venture out for supplies and try to come back without being followed. An African American scientist who was hiding out from us had a horribly burned arm, so he must have come closer to the aliens than most.

No one had actually seen the aliens. They sometimes used animals, whose minds they easily controlled, to attack people or to view things close-up, but, their methods of destruction came via weapons from afar, unseen. The fear of making noise and getting their attention was ever-present, though frustrated people sometimes forgot and started arguing or even playing music.

There was concern that the aliens used thermal imaging to find people in hiding, and perhaps that is why most people did not bother to hide in attics or basements — they were as revealed as they’d be on the ground floors. I knew, from an earlier part of the dream, that this method of detection was true — I experienced an entire office building being shot up, with people in fetal position trying not to get shot by the bullets that came through the walls from outside, but, without any place to hide.

During that scene, I magnified my magnetic field so I had a sort of protective shell around me. I could deflect most bullets. And even if I was shot, I had the advantage that I was only dreaming. Later on, I could even cause vehicles around me to flip off the road, though this took a lot of sustained effort to make my shell that big. I could fly alongside a train, my body partly in the ground next to the tracks, not being seen (not sure why I did this, but, point is my dream body had some tricks up its sleeves).

When the North was first being attacked, a scene in the dream involved me opening a hatch that led to a secure basement area that could be used for hiding. The hatch was complicated. A 3’x3′ blue door needed to be lifted up, then a round metal and concrete hatch beneath it needed to be slid (on short rails) from the back of the area to the front so that it would line up with a vertical tunnel underneath. I’m sure there was some Freudian element in this. Complicating the tricky opening was that this was an emergency entrance and was thus rusted and in disrepair. I tried to encourage people to go into it but they did not feel the sense of emergency that I felt. Perhaps that is when I decided to flee South.

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