Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
The surprising thing is that it never happened before.
I think I’ve pointed out previously that my subconscious hates me. Just the other night, I dreamed I was at a party where not one but two women offered to take me home with them, with promise of better things to come. I had made my choice and was about to leave with the cuter of the two when my subconscious executed a very sloppy edit and put me into a soup kitchen ladling out food for the poor. Oh, the unfairness of it all.
I’ve dreamed of atomic bomb explosions in the past, but always at a distance. I see the flash reflected off the buildings around me, I see the mushroom clouds, I wonder if I’m far enough away to escape the shock wave. Can I find my car fast enough to escape the blast, to dodge the fallout? “No” would be the answer in real life, but in the dream, there’s always a chance. The world will never be the same but maybe I’ll live to see the other side of the changes.
This morning, though, I was at ground zero. With my wife.
The setting was the usual phantasmagoric admixture of military installation, my home, and my elementary school. Karen and I were watching an assault on this base. Behind a cordon lay a crate beneath a canvas shroud. Men with rifles stood guard. We watched the action as if it were a movie. The opposing force advanced, there were flashes and gunfire, and suddenly the canvas-covered crate began making noise.
Somehow, we knew this was a Bad Thing. Karen ran for a short distance and then I picked her up and ran with her across a field to some concrete-sided buildings that looked like they might provide some cover. Still, we would be less than quarter mile from the bomb. Oh, and we were in our underwear (don’t you just love dreams?), so I found myself wondering: if we survive the explosion, will we die from exposure come morning?
We made it to the building and found clothes. I pulled on some jeans that were way too long for me and too big in the waist. We were still barefoot but there wasn’t anything to be done for that. Before we could continue our flight, we heard the explosion.
Of course, it’s a good question how much time (if any) one would have between hearing the explosion and getting hit with the shock wave, since I suspect these are one and the same. But in the dream we had time to hit the deck and hold hands. I told her that I loved her. (My subconscious digs Hollywood endings, apparently.) Then the blast rolled in and it was like hot air from an open oven: unpleasant but not intolerable; and I had time to think, “Oh, great, we’ve survived the blast only to die in a day or two from the radiation.” But then I noticed that all of Karen’s hair was gone, and I woke up, so I guess we didn’t survive after all.
So my question to my subconscious is: WTF, man?
D.
It all seems very lucid, Doug, and I’m sure there’s lots of symbolism in there for someone to sort out.
Me? I sleep, and wake up, and remember nought inbetween.
Oh, you’re loads of help, Keith 😉
Sounds like too many apocalyptic video games.
But Kira, Fallout 3 takes place well after the mushroom clouds!
Well, I woulda replied where appropriate, but the comments were closed…
The Lodge was our Thanksgiving getaway, and it was a lot of fun. You probably couldn’t spend more than two days there without wanting to go on a film-at-eleven-style rampage, but it was good for a weekend. We aren’t going anywhere in December unless forced to.
Having Junior inside is giving me way messed up dreams, too, Doug. Weird creatures coming out of a lake and attacking people at the resort nearby; epic journeys via canoe and/or bicycle; strange gatherings of people — including occasional “musical number” sequences… I really wish I could remember more of them, but they fade PDQ. No atomic bombs in mine, though.