An unpublished dream blog entry from 2008.06.06 that I found in my drafts folder:
A really affecting Battlestar Galactica dream last night, with clear overtones of Nazi Germany.
I was me, and I was with a woman/companion and a daughter or child. We’d run from a cylon occupied place (possibly the galactica itself, possibly a country, not sure) to a neighborhood on earth, and we slipped into a house and curled up in a corner of the dining room floor and hoped a black blanket and pillow would hide us well enough to sleep the night without being spotted by cylons. But spotted we were, and a phalanx of cylons came up to the windows. I tearfully told my partner that we’d see each other in the next life. Then I asked her if we should try running to the basement door, but we wouldn’t make it.
The owner of the house, a human, then appeared and we understood that he’d called the cylons to report our intrusion into his house. These humans were living life as if the cylons were not an enemy!
But I realized this house was not his house. It was my parents’ house, and I told him he’s profited when my parents had been sent to cylon concentration camps. Had he bought the house – no! Had he won it in an auction? No! He’d been given the house as the cylons repopulated the country with survivors of their initial invasion.
His wife then apologized, and showed us around the house. Showed me a letter that my mother had written from a concentration camp, the last letter that had arrived. The woman told me it had arrived two or three years ago, in 1997 or 1999. “But it is 2008” I said. “Which means she’s been dead for years now”. The woman did not know it was 2008 and I explained that the years of the cylon invasion had evidently been ignored, and under the cylon occupation the calendar had simply been restarted to make it seem as if the years of invasion had never occurred. Despite the cylon troops that could come out at night.
I then visited the living room, where cable tv was showing an Olympics. I used this broadcast to figure out that there were only between 8 to 10 countries participating. “The bad news is it looks like all the countries of the world have been reduced to about 10” I noted. “The good news is you’ve got a 1 in 10 chance of winning at the Olympics”.
I attent olympics and flip off cylon to camera.
To write: visited olympics training facility, jealous guy shoots arrows at me, I say they should box to settle it. He jams arrows in my quill to make it seem like I was at fault. I run from him, find subway station with metal rules soldiered to platform. I find underground mine track or small subway track. I run to a side room, hide under towel by large machine wnen I hear cylon sounds. Humans (or cylon humans?) come into room, and talk about parterning up someone with a cylon-human to make him feel more secure. A female cylon comes over to my towel-hidden shape, and says she knows what model may be good. Takes my towel off. I am starbuck. A model 10… or this one looks like a 10.4 she noted — their relationships tend not to last. I tear up. “It will last” I say, playing along that I am a cylon. “Of course it will dear” she says and then resumes talking to the group. “We could replace her body, perhaps”.