Thursday, September 27, 2007

Vivid Annihilation Dream

It’s 5:36 a.m. and I just had the most vivid dream about annihilation. It began with me, some girl and a guy. I don’t know them but we meander into a carnival that’s about to close. We get on a ride where you step into “cars” like on a Ferris wheel and we start going around. Then it turns into a bar, a kind of old, 70’s-style lounge. The ride becomes more like a Tilt O’ Whirl but with brown leather booths and we’re spinning in an oblong, moving like a conveyer belt.

In any case, the ride ends and people start leaving the bar. But not everyone in my party does. They start a poker game in the restaurant part of the lounge, even though the place has closed. Then other people I know start coming in to join in the gambling. The room starts to get smoky from cigarettes. Elaine from the Joel Hall Dancers is one of the people who arrive and she’s got a new boyfriend. They get in through the front glass-and-metal door, which was supposed to be locked but a faulty mechanism lets everyone in. The room starts to fill with people playing poker.

Then the scene changes.

All of a sudden it's an overcast day and I’m driving down a street with two dogs. One’s a larger mutt wrapped in dry cleaner’s plastic with its muzzle poking out and he’s panting. The other is a small, chubby dog with pointy ears and snout. I pick him up with one hand and put him on the floor on the front passenger side where the other dog is on the seat. I’ve driving through a Japanese part of town. There’s a third animal in the car. It’s also small, but alive and I remember feeling like I had to watch all three.

I’m driving and all of a sudden a one-man jet screams above me going in the direction I’m driving. It drops two successive missiles—long, white ones with fins in the front—and causes two huge explosions with the buildings instantly becoming skeletons, shells of construction and rubble. The sound was so loud you couldn’t hear it, like a bomb going off in a distant part of your mind.

I grab the mutt and clutching it, I run back down the street where I came from. I hear another jet fly past and while I don’t see it because I’m running, I hear two more explosions and I feel the heat behind me as I fall to the ground. I’ve still got the dog and I’m worried about the two others back in the car.

Things seem to quiet down, but then other small, light planes come swooping in. They’re spraying some kind of foam under the storefront roofs, just maneuvering in and out with the agility of those small remote-controlled gliders. Then there are people on the street in light-blue uniforms, kind of Mao-esque, all men with mixed-race faces; and they’re pushing ice-cream carts through the streets. I’m not sure exactly what they’re doing. I ask one of them, “Who, who are you?”

He is hesitant to stop and answer. But he says something like, “You will know what it’s like.”

There’s a lull in the chaos and shop keepers are selling what they have. I decide that if I don't eat now, I may not get the chance later. So I go up to a sushi place where they’re selling sliced meats and fish. It’s $10 for a slice of what looks like white fish, but I pay it. In doing so, I accidentally drop my wallet and scuffle briefly with some other Asian dude who tried to grab at it. I get back to the fish on my plate, but as I bring it up to my lips, it changes to a tray of peeled grapefruit.

I still have the dog with me when suddenly, I hear a roar coming from down the street. It’s this all-consuming fire, like those wildfires you see out West. It’s raging down the street, licking the asphalt, covering the storefronts, the buildings … I’m in a construction area with scaffolding and wooden barriers. I pull myself up into the space between a storefront awning and the wooden wall and I’m watching the flames as they swiftly rush toward me. It’s clear to me what kind of death I’ll soon have and those words from the uniformed man link to the kind of torture that Hiroshima victims felt.

In my panic I realize this is a dream and the way to get out is through a hole in my psyche. I scream myself awake and when I spring upright, I think to myself, “Wow, that was some vivid dream … I’d better write it down.”

So I tried to remember every detail so anyone who analyzes dreams can give me a quick, psychological check-up. Certain analysis: What a freak.


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