I had a strange dream last night:
1915.  Early summer in Europe must look more beautiful than this.  Far off in the distance, bright yellow sunlight blankets the hills, however, here by my brother and I, it is dark overhead and the thick, potent smell of a bog permeates the fog that covers the ground–everything is tinted in a muddy green color.  We shoulder ourselves against large, colorless boulders for shelter and wait; you can almost hear the air crackle with tension.  I look down at the ground, brushing aside some dead grass and a glow catches my eye.  A quick whistle from my teeth brings my brother over and everything turns black and white.  Pictures form in the glowing object; tanks rolling through the country on the outskirts of a city, massive buildings still in flames, their white pillars turned black from soot & smoke, and a sequence that moves too fast for me to comprehend aside from noting a crescent moon and swastika in the confusion. 

My brother and I stare at each other; he holds up his index finger and I hold up my index & middle finger, both gestures symbolizing world war I and II.  The first war has ended and we have just entered the second.  Within the glow, a swastika forms again, absorbing it until no light is left.  The symbol then forms into the number  “70” and then into the head of an eagle, resting atop a shield.  It vanishes and an eagle flies overhead; we follow it s flight path to a glass box of a house a few miles ahead.  It looks about a quarter mile away from a river bank and I ask my brother how we can utilize the energy of the trees hanging over it.

Slowly, we approach the river bank, everything is in color again.  To the left is the glass house, no walls, with a man sitting in a throne-like chair in the center, motionless.  As we continue forward along the water, the ground begins to shift, slowly pulling a 180 degree turn; the house is further ahead of us now.  We walk toward where the glow had been coming from earlier, a handful of soldiers walking with my brother and I, carrying towers of ceramic dinner plates.  Without warning, a few of them break at the base, sending all of the other ones crashing to the ground in slow motion.  I quickly signal at the troops with me and we all dive further into the water, which is waist deep and has tall, dry grass growing up from the mud.

The man in the glass house stands up, walks through the glass and floats over to our location.  He opens his mouth to speak and wheat bushels grow out from his tongue and his eyes tint bright green.  He says that he cannot grow anything on his farm because of the war, that he is forbidden from feeding us.  I slowly rise from the water, making eye contact with him, planning on an attempt at negotiation.  The droplets fall from my hat in a slow drip.  His eyes narrow in on me, causing my eyes to fill with blue fire.  I grab the wheat from his mouth, telling him that he can do as he wishes, as it is his farm, and we are hungry.  Agitated, he steals the wheat back from me, balancing it on his palm and it turns to ash.  He tells me that my soldiers, brother and I have little understanding of what is happening and what the war is about.  I disagree with him, stating the specifics of what fueled the war and the desperation of Europe, causing him to close his eyes and point to the middle of the river.  My soldiers are out there, dead, in a heap.  My brother puts his hand on my shoulder and matter-of-factly states, “We will not die”.  Everything cuts to black.  I wake up.

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I had a strange dream last night:

I was walking through the fringes of a city close to the shore approaching a glass building. It was a beautiful day and everybody was for the most part going about their business happily. I entered this glass building and heard an alarm going off in one of the rooms. Curious, i went over to investigate to see if anybody was inside. I knocked and nobody answered so i opened the door myself and walked in. At first i didn’t see anybody inside as i walked through the room. I heard a faint voice speaking and he seemed to be having a conversation. I went to the back of the room and through another door and there was a tall man sitting with his back to the door talking on the phone. He sounded nervous and was whispering loudly into the phone, “We cannot tell anybody! It’s supposed to be kept secret! It doesn’t matter how many lives are lost!” 

That last line kicked up my inquisitiveness and it made me angry. I rapidly walked up to him, spun him around and got in his face and screamed, “These are PEOPLE you are talking about you f***!” He ran to the side of the room and got on his stomach, putting his face up against the glass and yelled that it was too late. The alarm stopped and all noise seemed to disappear as well so i ran to the glass and pushed myself between the window and some long golden plank of sorts that must have been 10 or 11 feet long. Apparently, when shit is about to hit the fan, stay by the glass-its…..safe?

Anyway, i looked out the window and the sky on the horizon darkened and immediately afterward i heard a high pitched whining sound. The glass shattered and fire engulfed the city in an explosion that seemed to level everything in it. I was blown back into the wall and crashed through it, hitting another wall and everything went black.

As i “came to” i heard that man again and he was talking normally on the phone. When i was able to open my eyes, he walked up to me and told me that the N. Koreans and Chinese had dropped a nuclear bomb on the city. The Federal government had made a deal with those 2 countries and sold it to them and were now blaming the two countries for a “terrorist attack” and declaring war on China and N. Korea. My blood boiled but i could not yet stand up, as it felt like my bones had shattered from being thrown through that wall. He knelt down and stared at me, he had such a sad look in his eyes and he said, “I know.” He touched my forehead and i was able to stand but felt extremely sick.

He told me i had to go home but i refused as i stumbled toward the window. All of the city before me was a broken shell. Everything was red and orange and emanating smoke. Bands of people were running all over the place, others were throwing up, and more were sobbing. I stepped out of the window and appeared on the ground. He yelled that all of the city’s inhabitants would get radiation sickness, myself included, but i gave him the finger and told him to go to hell.

I hit myself in the stomach and was able to run down one of the avenues-i had no idea where i was going, though. A strong, young looking man and a woman in a nun’s habit stepped out from the middle of nowhere and a doorway appeared next to them. They told me that i had to come with them. I entered the door and found myself in some bunker-looking place, but it was actually quite nice inside. They led me to a room where a few others were resting and i was able to clear my head to think about all that had just happened. I heard some ruckus outside in the hallway and went out to see what the problem was. There was another man there, clothes shredded, bruised, bleeding who was screaming about what had just happened. I felt a swell of anger in my chest and yelled for him to calm down. I explained to him what had happened, what that man in the glass office told me about the N. Koreans, Chinese, and how our government sold them the bomb with the intent to have it dropped on us. He turned ghost white and could do nothing but stare at me. I made a fist and hit the concrete wall, putting holes in them but could not scream as loud as my temper wished me to. Woke up.