Tag Archives: nightmare

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooo…

Remember my dream the other day? Remember how there was an explosion in Beirut in that dream?

It was the explosion in Beirut. The one that actually happened yesterday.

Like…I didn’t even make the connection until today. I read “explosion in Beirut” as a news story title on CNN yesterday and really thought nothing of it. You hear “explosion in Beirut” and you think, like, a car exploded or something.

It wasn’t until I saw a video of the explosion today – and saw how massive it was – that I connected the explosion in my dream to the actual explosion.

It is the same explosion. I’m not even kidding.

Like, this video?

That is what I saw in the dream. Almost exactly. Same angle, same intensity of explosion, everything.

That is creepy as fuck.

If there’s a similar explosion in France at some point soon, the end of the world is coming, yo.

So this was the most realistic-feeling and absolutely terrifying dream I’ve ever had.

The end of the world is coming and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. It’s irreversible. And much like the virus, the experience almost doesn’t seem real. It’s like watching a horror movie and waiting to see how the ending will resolve itself, all the time knowing that the movie is reality and the only resolution is the absolute end of everything.

We watch a live map of the world, waiting. Knowing that the end is coming. Knowing that we can’t stop it. We can only watch and wait. But there’s an expert with us, and he can tell us when it’s all about to be over. There’s a level of comfort in that, somewhere.

For a while there’s nothing. Then, an explosion. Beirut. It’s big enough that it can be seen from space. Live cameras in the city show the massive blast move outward from its epicenter with a speed and intensity that does not seem survivable.

Is it nuclear?
No. Not this one. The expert assures us that this is not the end.

Smoke fills the live camera views. Some cameras go offline. A shot from the ISS shows the explosion’s cloud breach the earth’s lower atmosphere and billow above it.

Another explosion. It is somewhere in France, but we can’t see the exact location because of all the smoke on the map.

Is this one nuclear?
No. Not this one, either. But the next one will be.

So we wait. Excited dread. Fearful hope that it will be quick and as painless as possible.

We wait.
We wait.
Then it happens.

A third explosion, big enough that it blots out the entire world map. All live cameras go black. The map shudders and goes blank.

This is it, the expert says.
This is it.

It’s like a dream. It can’t be real. This is something that would happen in a TV show or a book or a movie. Not real life. It can’t be real.

How long until we die? No one knows. No one is here to tell us anymore. The expert is suddenly gone.

I want my mom. I need to talk to my mom. I want her to be the last person I talk to. Somehow, by some miracle, I am able to message her over Skype.

Are you there?
Yes.
Are you scared?
Yes.
Me too.
I love you.
I love you, too.

I feel the wind, even though I’m in the house. It stings as if it’s filled with tiny needles. My body hurts. My lungs hurt. Then the walls of the house are gone.

Are you still there?
Yes.
I love you.
I love you, too.

The atmosphere feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. There is a terrible crushing feeling as everything starts to flatten. The horizon flattens. All houses that are still standing flatten. My vision is distorted. Everything hurts.

Are you still there?
Yes.
I love you.
I love you, too.

Everything hurts.
Everything hurts.

What could we have changed to prevent this?

Everything hurts.

Where is Nate?
Where is Jazzy?
All the creatures on the planet are dying a horrible, painful death.

Can we try again? We’ll get it right this time.

Are you still there?
Yes.
I love you.
I love you, too.

Everything hurts.

Please, can we try again?

Sound waves stop being able to fluctuate. First there is static, then there is nothing. Everything is too flat for sound.

Then everything is too flat for light.

Am I even alive, or is this what the end of life feels like?
I can’t be the only one. Not yet. Either we’re all dead or none of us are.

I can’t hear. I can’t see. I don’t know if I’m breathing.
I just know that it’s over. There is no more one last try.

Are you still there?

Hello?

…I love you.

Saturday Night Nightmares

You guys sick of reading about my dreams yet? Well too bad, ‘cause here’s another one.

It’s the not-too-distant future and apparently the entire northern West Coast, from Northern California all the way up through the coast of Alaska, has been infected with this rare and 100% deadly virus. The scientists don’t know what caused it, don’t know how to cure it or contain it, but know that it’s spreading east at an alarming rate and will surely wipe out the North American population within like two years’ time.

So the few bigwig science guys still alive on the West Coast have to come up with this idea to somehow save the rest of the North American population while getting rid of the infected coastline people as fast as possible.

In the meantime, every person I know has gotten sick with the disease and has either died a horrific, disfiguring death or is in the process of doing so. Well, everybody except my grandma (the one that hates me because I’m my father’s spawn). My mom (who has been infected but isn’t dead yet) are talking about what my grandma’s going to do and my mom’s like, “I think she’s going to move north.” And somehow I know what the scientists’ big plan is, ‘cause I reply with, “I don’t think there’s going to be much of a north left.”

So yeah. Turns out the scientists have decided that setting off a nuclear bomb right over Western Canada would be the best way to eviscerate the problem of this virus and “humanely” kill all the people still alive who are suffering from the infection.

And guess who gets the job of setting off the bomb?

ME!

The dream shifts and it’s like three weeks later in time. I’ve been briefed over what I need to do in order to set off the bomb, which is basically to press a big red switch when the timer they gave me hits zero. Everyone I know has died except for my mom, who is extremely sick and almost totally paralyzed and mute from the illness. It’s about three hours until I destroy the coast and I’m sitting on a couch in my grandpa’s old room above his garage in California. My mom’s curled up beside me with her head in my lap. She can’t move and can hardly breathe at this point. There are like seven guys sitting on the couch beside me/hanging on the back of the couch and they’re all harassing Martha Stewart, who is also there, about her stint in jail. It’s actually quite amusing, but I’m so overly anxious about the bomb that I can’t really pay attention to them.

Time keeps ticking on, and eventually we reach about a minute left on the timer. I can feel my heart pounding alongside that nervous, almost sick feeling I get before taking a test or giving a presentation. The guys and Martha Stewart have gone elsewhere and my mom and I are alone. She looks up at me and I can see in her eyes that she’s asking me when the pain will be over, so I kiss her on the forehead and say, “it will all be over soon.”

Then I actually try to push her off the couch real hard so that she’ll just die from that and not have to go through the explosion, but that doesn’t work. So I think, “screw this,” run over to the red button, and push it. There’s this HUGE cracking boom in the distance (I actually felt the sound wave hit me in the dream) and I turn to look out the big picture window behind me. Everything still looks normal, so I run downstairs and stand outside the open and empty garage.

I see this huge mushroom cloud not too far from where I am. Birds flying above me are being eviscerated by the explosion already, vaporizing as they’re trying to get away. I can see this huge gust of radioactive wind coming towards me, so I stand out in front of the garage, spread my arms, and shout “take me!” The whole time I’m thinking, “this can only hurt for a few seconds. This can only hurt for a few seconds. It’s not like I’ll feel anything after I’m dead.” And I actually feel this incredible excitement over being able to die. The wind picks up around me and I can feel these little pinpricks of radiation on my arms…

And then my damn phone alarm goes off and I wake up.

Anyway. That dream was up there with that flooding dream I had a while ago in terms of making me freak out once I actually realized it was a dream.

Fun times.

Dear Brain: WTF was that?

I rarely dream about death. Most of my dreams involve some sort of panic, but more often than not that panic is brought about by my inability to meet some sort of deadline in my dream. Not being able to move fast enough, doing things incorrectly and having to repeat them, being so scatterbrained that I can’t get things done in a logical order…stuff like that.

But I rarely dream about death.

Even more rare are dreams in which the goings on of the dream feel exactly like reality. 99% of the time I know in my dreams that I’m dreaming.

But last night? Death, very realistic-feeling dream, and not being able to move fast enough. Some of the main reasons why this most recent dream was the most symbolic, terrifying, and upsetting one I’ve ever had in my entire life.

I went to bed at 6:30 in the morning and must have started dreaming right away. In the dream I find myself in a large white flattened cube of a house. The walls are bare except for two low-lying rectangular windows that are opened and cannot be shut. One window sits above a huge white bathtub; the other sits above my chair and computer stand (holding Vaio).

My knowledge in the dream is that I live with my father and that he is, at the time, out to church and won’t be back for awhile.

So I’m sitting there minding my own business when suddenly it starts raining outside. Almost immediately the water reaches the low windows and starts pouring into the house. I’m not panicked, but I feel worried as I rapidly try to gather up all of our stuff in the house and wrap it in protective plastic wrap. This being one of my dreams, of course I’m unable to move fast enough. I’m slogging through the water, vainly trying to cover things in plastic, all the while watching some of my most important things (Vaio, all my backups for my files, my chair), disintegrate and dissolve in the water. While all this is happening I’m thinking to myself, “dad’s going to blame me for all of this, even though it’s not my fault the water came in and it’s not my fault our windows are so low to the ground.”

Anyway, the rain and flooding finally stop and all the water except for the water in the bathtub miraculously disappears, leaving only small puddles of our mostly dissolved possessions. I wasn’t able to save anything in the house.

At this point my dad comes back and immediately notices that everything but the bathtub is in ruins on the floor. He’s not angry, surprisingly, but is questioning me with increasing panic in his voice. “What happened? Where’s all our stuff? Why’s the house ruined? Why did you ruin the bathtub?” I vehemently argued that I didn’t ruin the bathtub, which only makes him panic more. He’s wandering around the house all bewildered, wondering what to do next.

He tells me he’s going to go outside and check on our shed to see if anything in there survived. I follow him. As we walk down the sidewalk I notice that every cat we’ve ever known is lying dead in some rigor mortis-induced contortion scattered across the lawn. As we continue walking, dead butterflies and birds start to drop from the sky.

We reach the shed, which has been reduced to nothing more than its foundation. The only thing left “inside” it is an old industrial trunk. Neither my dad nor I knew what was in it; we were just overjoyed that some artifact of our lives was spared from the flood/storm.

I call my mom and she comes over to keep me company while dad continues pacing around the house in a mild panic. I start showing her the remains and the dead cats and the trunk, and her only remark is, “that’s so interesting! Wow!” And I just have this tremendous, unbearable sense of loss and hopelessness. All I keep saying is, “it’s all gone. All of it, it’s all gone.”

I woke up with my pillow in a death grip half an hour later, unsure of where I was.  But when I finally realized that my dream was actually a dream and NOT reality, I freaking lost it. I lay in bed bawling for at least fifteen minutes, then curled up in the covers and had a nice little freak-out.

I haven’t told any of you much about my life’s situation at this point other than what I’ve put in this blog, but I think the main reason this dream freaked me out so much is that it was so representative of how I’ve been feeling lately. It was so full of symbolic messages related to my worries, concerns, situation, future, and general mood that I think my brain didn’t want to handle it all subconsciously anymore and so decided to spew forth a nice little half-hour-long terror session during my REM time.

Flarusadofhdaghghghg. That was a draining experience.

Gonna go play New Vegas now. Need to mellow out.