10/17/14 latest war dream/nightmare
Thank Divinity! it was just a dream; just another of these damned war nightmares. God, I hate them.
I’m writing this from the language/vocabulary of the character I was in the dream; though I have no idea who that was. I never saw my image in a mirror or anything and wasn’t paying any attention to what my family looked like. In the dream, we just looked like our family. So whatever we looked like was family to each other, and that’s all that mattered.
It was weird to see the big city like that. Everything right then was weird. And of course it was; considering everything that was suddenly happening.
We, my family and I, were at (our) Mother’s little house. Most of us, at one point or another, had grown up in Mother’s little house. Where her house sat, you could see down the small hill to the river and then across you could see the big city (downtown as you’d call it; we always just called it the big city because on our side of the river, we had our own city and downtown and all, just not as big as the big city across the river).
But today, this afternoon, there was nothing moving in the big city. Nothing at all. Everyone was gone. None of the usual volume of cars. No people. Nothing. It was weird. Like I said, everything was weird that afternoon; everything.
We all were grown up now and lived in different places in our city, and none of us that I can remember right now lived in the big city. We’d all seen that day what was coming and we all had the same thought; get Mother. So when we all met up at her place, none of us were surprised to see each other. We didn’t call each other on the phone; we didn’t have to. Everyone knew getting Mother to leave would be biggest problem.
Oh, remember the river I was telling you about? Well, right in the middle of that river sits an industrial-like, man-made island and on that island is a nuclear power plant that provides electricity for the big city. From what I remember the plant isn’t for our side; I kind of remember we have our own power plant but it’s not nuclear, not that that matters anymore.
Mother’s house was little but to us it was big and to Mother, it was her world. Not that she was agoraphobic or anything; she went out of the house lots of times, went to the store and all that. But her whole world, that world of your being, you know what I mean? That was her house. All her memories are there. All the little things that she treasured were in that little house.
Where we were all standing trying to talk to Mother was in the living room. At one side of the living room, directly across from where I was standing, were all these tall panel windows that made up a bay-window kind of set up (I don’t remember what architects call that). Mother was sitting in one her chairs on one side of the living room where’s there’s another set of windows but those aren’t bay-like, just flat ordinary windows. She was sitting there, fussing with a pillow, mumbling, “You’re right. Yes, you’re right. We’ve got to go.” But we all knew she couldn’t do it. She knew she couldn’t do it.
It was maybe an hour or more that it had happened. Time gets real fuzzy when something like this goes down but who ever lived through anything like this? No one in my family, that’s for sure.
So, some time before we’d shown up at Mother’s house and from where-ever we happened to be in our city at that point, we’d all seen it, all had heard it, everyone had felt it. Well, it’d be hard not to feel something that big exploding. Nasty orange-black blast in the sky. That’s what everyone would remember of the last of those planes.
And it didn’t take any education to see where those two planes – only two for now – had been heading. They were heading right for that island with the power plant on it. I remember wondering for like a quick minute, in that afternoon of just weird panic feeling, if maybe somehow the pilots on those big assed planes hadn’t somehow tried to slow the planes down just enough so that they wouldn’t crash into that power plant. Man, all those people on those planes, just gone. That was what I was thinking when I had been standing on the street, when I saw the planes just become those nasty orange-black bursts of fire in the sky. I didn’t have long to think about it though because my next thought right away was to get to Mother and somehow get her out.
The power plant, that island, you can see it, down the hill from Mother’s bay window. It was a few miles away but still, it was right there. We all knew it, if that thing went up, we were all dead.
Standing there in Mother’s living room, even though our bodies were thinking of our own survival, our heads were thinking about Mother and getting her out of there. One of us, our family, I could hear was upstairs, probably grabbing Mother some clothes. Smart, I thought and how stupid all the rest of us were; we had nothing, just ourselves. But nothing else to us was as important or necessary as Mother. We weren’t very practical thinking right then. We only cared about Mother and getting her out.
And every second of time that passed was another few feet we all weren’t going to make it to get away. None of us had a car and where would you park one if you had one anyway? To get through this alive, whatever it was – there wasn’t time to give it a name like attack or strike or war – we’d have to get miles away; walk, run, whatever. Every second we weren’t moving, was another foot lost. It’s a sick thing you feel in your stomach, a kind of growing twisty nausea, that kind of slow knowing, with every tick of the clock, it’s getting more and more real – you and your family are going to die. And there’s nothing you can do about it. (I still feel sick thinking about it, even though I know it was – Thank God – only a dream.)
The sky was already that hazy, sick yellow color, like on a really bad smog day, and had this nasty smell going on; I remember smelling that when I was getting to Mother’s place.
There in her living room, I could see out Mother’s bay window, in the short distance across the river, I could make out between two of the normal big, tall buildings of the big city. I could see no traffic moving and no people on the streets walking, and there were always people walking on the street but not today, not this afternoon. Everyone was gone. It felt more and more like my family and Mother and I, we were the only ones left. Probably wasn’t true, but that’s the way it was feeling. Man! Was there anyone else still here?
There was no way of leaving Mother behind but still our minds had the horrible thought there in our heads that we didn’t want to think about at all. And we couldn’t just take Mother out either, you know, carry her fireman-style over someone’s shoulder, because we knew she wasn’t going to walk on her own. She couldn’t do it. We all knew it. She couldn’t leave that house; her rock, really.
Mother was fussing with stuff, what she called tidying. She kept her house clean, always guest-ready as she called it. There was nothing to tidy. She was stalling, we all knew it and she knew it, too. She kept agreeing with us, “You’re right. Yes, of course, you’re right. We have to go.” But we knew it was impossible for her. She couldn’t pick just one photo album, one bit of this or that, to take with her. She knew, if whatever this thing happening went down, really went down, and they got that island, her little house would be gone forever. Forever. She couldn’t figure out what to choose to bring. What she wanted, we knew, was to take the whole house with her.
We stood there, watching her fussing with some tassles on some stupid pillow, listening to her mumble on. We all saw her and saw out those kind of bay windows. We all saw the same things, thought the same things, felt the same things. We all were slowly running out of steam to keep pushing her to leave because we all knew it was slowly becoming pointless. We stopped talking, just got kinda quiet. We may as well just sit down and join her.
I sat in the small couch next to where Mother was sitting in a chair. One of my family, she was younger than me, was sitting in the chair across from Mother, still trying real hard to get Mother to move, to leave; the rest of us were starting to accept it was over.
I wasn’t really listening to my younger family member any more. I was looking at Mother, who was looking down at her pillow, almost like she was ashamed of something but who knew what. Then I looked around the living room a bit, just taking it in, how Mother’s living room was set up, the bits and pieces, the few nic-nacs (she didn’t keep many), the pictures, the books, a pretty glass vase over there. Just taking it in, trying to ignore this sick kind of panic feeling in my stomach, in my chest.
Mother had chosen and laid out her living room real nice, her whole house really was nice. Not rich or anything because we weren’t rich. It was just nice and all those familiar bits of stuff, you know? Mother’s house really was guest-ready, Bless her.
But it wasn’t ready for this kind of thing going down. I don’t see how anything can really be ready for this kind of thing going down.
(In this dream, my Coco (pup) was with me – Thank Divinity! My Coco is starting to show up more and more in my dreams of late, which I am very thankful for her, my Coco’s being.)
Coco was on the couch with me, between me and Mother, with her paws on the back of the couch. Coco was trying to get out of the side window there. Coco knew it too, that we were all going to die, but her instincts were to survive; ours were too, actually. I tried to calm Coco down, pulling her close to me. Eventually Coco, like the rest of us, would give up, too.
And that’s when – Thank You, Divinity! – I woke up. Thank You, Divinity, for the ability to write this all out and start to get it out of my head. I lost a couple hours sleep writing this but it was worth it so maybe when I close my eyes again, the dream won’t pick up where I left off.