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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Meanwhile, back in Africa…

November 26, 2010

I had a strange dream last night:

Impressive in their size and not built to excess, cream-colored pillars decorate the torch-lit walkway I find myself walking down. I look up at the sky and the moon is full and bright, muting the glow of the stars closest to it. I turn right to an unimpressive & bland gated area, and realizing I don’t have the access required to pass through them, I turn around and am greeted by a smiling, dark-skinned lad. He signals for me to follow him to the end of the walkway; we stop at a large double gate and he slides the key into the lock and opens it for me, inviting me to walk through.

As soon as both of my feet are on the opposite side of the gate, as if in a literal blink of an eye, my surroundings change and I am in what looks like the wilderness of Africa. I hear a loud pop followed by a small explosion and a slight shimmer in the distance catches my eye, like it is winking at me. I take three steps in it’s direction and am next to it. At a closer look, it has tiny grooves of similar pattern at the base and tip and is emitting a low humming noise. I reach out to touch it but before I can wrap my hand around it, the screaming of children assaults my ears. Coming at me is a platoon of African child soldiers, guns firing and grenades exploding a few feet in front of me. In such circumstances I would usually raise my arms and roar/go akimbo and bang some pots and pans together to scare them off but I was caught quite off guard this time. And I was in Africa for some reason. Naturally I did not have my usual composure about me.

They all stopped moving and firing within a few feet of me and lined up. They parted a gap in the middle of the line and a slightly taller young fellow passed them and slowly approached me. Within arms reach, his eyes turned jet black (eerily like the demonic senior from last night’s dream) and his teeth sharpened right before my eyes. He snickered and continued toward me. I whipped out a small, ornate sawed off shotgun and fired off a round at his chest. He stumbled back, stunned a bit but shook it off and continued toward me. We went through this for what seemed too long of a time and each time he became more persistent than the last. I felt a magnetic sensation around my head and eyes, which I was sure was coming from him trying to hold my gaze (a fancy way of trying to put me in a staring contest against my will). The shells would slam into his body and face but he was not wounded by them, only forced back. Eventually I began to wonder what I would do once I ran out of ammo or became bored with the repetition of this possible stalemate of good vs. evil in the desert (could this represent a possible move toward amoralism within myself?? Ooooo, deep!).

I hear the rushing of wind above me and looking up, see a floorless hangar/warehouse type building coming right at me. The child in front of me snarls his lip and turns his back to me right as the building lands around me (thank god for the angels of Industrialism and their shield-buildings). This building had a row of dusty windows on each wall at the top; aside from that it was empty and had light pouring in through the windows, forming rays that were exaggerated by the dirt and dust on the panes. I heard a knocking sound on the far end of the building and as I approached, the ground around me cracked and shattered, it’s particles being thrown into the air in slow motion. I woke up.

I had a strange dream last night:

I see that I am at my old elementary school, Holly Hills and there are hundreds of people walking around, both inside and out. I get some information concerning a terrorist attack so i, with a handful of other gents, run to the far end of the school by the woods. The road turns to water as i climb the stairs of a small tower overlooking the approaching road. I look through my scope and wait, while the other guys tread the water with their guns pointed in the same direction. Within minutes, a few red Jeep Wranglers approach. A thick fog settles over us all so i switch my goggles to “ice” mode, turning the men in the jeeps into easily seen bright blue figures. My finger is lightly squeezing the trigger. I wait. The men in the jeeps are turned back after some arguing. I come down from the tower to re-group with the other guys. They say we should go back to the school but i disagree, saying we need a few men here just in case the jeeps come back. My advice is not taken so we all leave back to the school. 

Walking around the front area of the school, i hear rumbling in the distance. I look to where the tower is and see the jeeps roar into view, catching the attention of some other people walking around. A group of 40 hop out and set off a high-pitched signal and disappear. An explosion is heard in the distance, startling everyone. Then it hits home: simultaneous explosions rock the front area of the school and everybody panics. Civilians strapped with C4 to their bodies start screaming out phrases i don’t understand and blow themselves up, killing everybody around them. Bodies fly. Body parts fly. Fire, blood, smoke and explosions are everywhere. A girl that i am dating tries running toward me but continuously is prevented from reaching me due to the suicide bombers. I hear her screaming over everybody else. It makes me angry so i pull out my nickel-plated hand gun and, running low, taking aim, i shoot at the heads of the would-be suicide bombers that are in my way, leveling them and making a path to her.

I finally reach her and yell at her to get low and stay close to me. The windows of the front of the school blow out, and people with them. Their bodies are charred and some are on fire. I grab her hand and pull her as i run about the front of the school, trying to find a way to get in amidst all of the explosions still going off. I hear my sister yelling my name but i can’t see her. She comes out of the building, sobbing and i yell at her the same thing i did to the other girl with me.

A new entourage of jeeps arrive with men, who jump out. They run frantically into the thickest part of the crowd, followed by a loud crackle and a chain of massive explosions. So loud. My ears are ringing and my sister and the other girl sound far away when they yell even though they are right next to me. I grab my sister and hold her by her waist up against mine with the front side of her body facing the ground. As line of men charge at the three of us, a line of waiting school buses explode. I pull out my gun again and lay the remaining ones out. My sister and the other girl disappear.

I run back to the school through the front doors–which have been blown out and it’s filled with smoke. I find my ma and ask where dad is and she says he is outside waiting for me. The school is unrecognizable on the inside–walls are missing, desks, chairs, everything is on fire, holes in the roof, bodies everywhere. Compared to the mayhem outside, it’s rather quiet in the building aside from the crackling and popping of the fires burning. Eerie. I run to the back doors and a bright light flashes as i open them.

When i can see again, i run toward some tall, red brick walls and charge for them. They open up quickly and close just as quickly once i pass through. I find my dad, along with a large number of police, S.W.A.T. and military running about, talking, and looking over what look like maps. My dad is informing me what is going on as we make our way through the “complex”. Getting close to the exit doors, he and i get our knives ready; i am holstering the one that belonged to my great Grandad. Before exiting, a high-ranking S.W.A.T. officer tells me that i cannot go back to the school with my dad. Media helicopters can be heard overhead. I ask why but he only tells me i need to get to the airport. They boost me over the wall and i turn around, reaching through the iron bars of the door and stick out my hand. My dad grabs it and we give a firm handshake to each other and i choke up, knowing i likely won’t see him again. More explosions heard in the back round. Everything goes white.

I am running through a major airport–feels like Colorado or Arizona. Everyone else is calm. As i pull out my phone, the windows of the section i am in blow inward, shattering and scaring the shit out of everybody. Some fires burn outside of the airport. I try to find the terminal where my ma and sister are. I start texting my friend Brandon to tell him what happened at the Holly Hills school and that he needs to turn on the news. A large number of tv’s explode and fall to the floor and all i can think about is calling my ma to tell her i am ok. Some loud bangs are heard at the end of the airport and a crackling behind me. I turn around. Everything goes black. I wake up.