Posted by: scintillatingspeck | October 30, 2015

A nightmare, and a new day.

Sometime in the early hours of this day, I had a nightmare.

It was probably the doomiest nightmare I’ve ever had.  I don’t remember ever dreaming about Doom, actually—I devoted a lot of thought to it, mostly between 2005 and 2013, but since then I’ve been fairly assiduous in not dwelling on it.

In the dream, I was a passenger in a car.  The woman driving was someone I’ve been estranged from, someone I’ve known only through Facebook, who no longer “speaks” to me— the estrangement is a source of pain to me in real life.  We were driving down a large highway.  Suddenly, a bunch of military vehicles started going past us in the opposite direction, on the same side of the highway, including a bunch of huge ATVs with very fierce looking men driving them.  We were puzzled and wondered, what the heck was that about?  Then another wave of military vehicles went by, again in the opposite direction, nearly crashing into all the traffic.  This can’t be a minor issue, we thought.  Then an enormous, black dog went loping down the highway, undeterred by the traffic, unscathed.

The dream morphed somewhat and I realized I was in Washington, DC with my parents and sister.  We were watching a live broadcast of a reporter struggling to maintain composure.  She was a tall, black woman, very powerful looking, and tears were running down her face.  I can’t remember what she said but it was clear that this was the proverbial “shit hitting the fan” moment.  Beyond a terrorist incident, beyond war—the whole world was catastrophically unraveling, although in that moment, in our immediate surroundings, the sun was shining and things seemed calm.  My parents were acting like everything was normal—I think they were too stunned to do otherwise.

Then we were in an elegant apartment in Georgetown.  I think it was my sister’s.  (My sister went to college in Washington.)  My dad was meticulously painting the ornamental plaster moldings.  I said, “DAD, we have to go back to Boston—everything I stored away for this event is there.”  He looked puzzled.  I realized we would never be going back to Boston.

I decided to try to make some phone calls.  I called a friend in France; I reached a recorded message of her voice and felt sad that I couldn’t talk to her directly ever again.  Then a recorded message came on from the phone company, in a polished, female voice, saying, “This is a public service announcement.  It is now time to start euthanizing your pets and your children.”  What?!  I ran to my dad, sobbing, horrified, hearing gunshots ringing out from all the buildings along the street.  It was in that state of crying terror that I woke up.

I’m glad to be awake.  I’m glad it’s autumn in New England, and my child is alive.  It gave me a large measure of solace to see her delight in the beginnings of her Spider Queen costume (I’m almost done with the legs) and in the tiny clay pumpkin basket she made, overflowing with tiny candy.

Lily the Spider Queen (minus tarantula legs, but those are coming soon)

Lily the Spider Queen (minus tarantula legs, but those are coming soon)

 

the teeny-tiny pumpkin

the teeny-tiny pumpkin

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