Another horrible dream last night.
Nuclear war. Actually, not necessarily a war. 2 blasts in quick succession. Unrealistically, somehow I had enough advance warning to take some cover. I was outside, but conveniently, among song trees there was a metal storage cabinet, so I opened the flimsy metal door and stepped inside, pulling the door shut. The first flash of light was so bright that even inside the metal cabinet, I saw the flash. I turned myself to face the other direction and closed my eyes, in time for a second flash, which came from the same direction — east? — which again registered as light even though my eyes were closed and now buried in my arm.
Within a few minutes, a wind of debris blew from across the distance. Burn pieces of what looked like bark. (Which I saw even though I was inside the cabinet — this was a dream after all.) I put myself into a fetal position — lowering my arm which had been raised — out of realization that if something winged through this cabinet it’d probably take my arm off. In fetal position, it would either be all or nothing.
I’m not sure which cardinal direction the blast came from. It was at least two states away, I knew that. And the dream was set in Massachusetts.
This is one of several bad dreams I’ve had lately. A few nights ago (I did not record it) was a dream in which I stood in the foyer area (really just the foot of the stairs) in my parents house, before the front door. Everything was shaking and a loud roar was filling the air. It was so loud that we (my mother was near me) knew that there was no use in even running. Either something was about to wipe out the part of the neighborhood where our foyer stood — an aircraft along the ground seemed a likely explanation for the roar that seemed to be coming from left to right — or it would miss us, but this again would be all or nothing; we’d either be spared or we would be wiped out. Though the thought to run back a few steps and head into the basement seemed reasonable, I chose to stand by my mother, who was to afraid to move. It’s an instinctual reaction that sometimes we humans experience — a behavior of being still and quiet and hoping the ancestral predator will not notice us. It has no bearing in modern life, but it still appears sometimes.
Both of these dreams were more of dream-fragments than whole dreams. They did not have complete stories around them. There were only a scene, each.
Oh, Holy Shit. I’m remembering more of the dream from last night now. This was a different society than ours — or it was our society after having become immensely militarized. Where there had been fields and nature there were entire fields where missiles and other armaments now stood. I was flying above one such armored area in a blimp, I think it was a blimp for our speed was slow but steady; I was not too high up and I could look down and see the people working there in these armored zones. Ones in black cloaks reminded me of the Dark Lords of the Sith from Star Wars — evil old wrinkled men in black robes, their hoods up, who were the power behind this industrialization. I shouted nasty things at one of them, but they couldn’t see me, even when looking up. The blimp I was a passenger in was apparently invisible, and we were being given a sort of tour of this world. It was horrible. It was a world lured into a warlike mentality by those dark Lords. There were people there too, workmen in hard hats and blue coveralls just like you’d see at any refinery, usually one standing with each dark Lord, taking notes, listening to his words or instructions. I also had the impression parts of the population had been taken prisoner, entire towns taken away to make room for these zones.
Another part of the dream included the character Sarah Connor as played by Lena Headey. Me, her, and another person or two were in a small blue van, in a heavily populated village town with green lawns and white wood-siding on older buildings. We needed to prove something to this society. Something which had been denied them, by some authority (a church perhaps). We turned off the road and carefully smashed our vehicle into the cement wall of a municipal building, behind which we knew there were relics that would prove something to the people. We got out and reached into the cement, and pulled out a couple things, including a sort of display case of rings. The inscriptions on the rings had the names of… something. Possibly the names of Popes? Had a Church in this world erased the existence of several Popes? These rings proved something along those lines, and we held them up before the gathered crowd. And hoped they wouldn’t all be killed for having seen this. Another artifact held up by Lena/Sarah was a paper of some kind, probably a Constitution or something (this scenario appeared in an episode of Sliders, fyi). Then we had to run, and I vanished into subway tunnels.
It is always nice when dreams provide clear examples of fiction.