Okay, so picture it. I’m fumbling around in my unconsiousness. It’s one of those dreams where you aren’t participating, only watching from a bodiless form.
I can remember a winter road like you would find between towns in Northern Ontario – tall green pines to left of the main road, and then a smaller, rural road runs parallel to it, a residential road with the occasional house.
Then I can hear, of all things, the Family Guy theme song, and everyone (bodiless me, and Lois from the show) is being pushed along, towards the one house, as if by wind or musical energy. And I’m watching her at the house … she’s trying to get in before it all fades to black. She circles it, and gets close, and then goes inside, but not before picking up a passle of cartoonish rats to take into her care.
Inside it’s only women. The last women, for some reason that I understand. Wood-paneled basement hell. Rats nursing at the women’s teats. Something’s happened in the world. I turn to this TV, and it flashes a warning that the images I will see will be disturbing to some viewers.
They are going to feature Connie Chung, and what happened to her. She appears in the television, doing a feature for the news amid crowds and smoke and fear, and she looks up into the sky, and a meteor (small one, size of a heafty chair) crashes into her. The camera pulls back, and people are trying to get her out from under the boulder. They do and try to walk her away, and it happens again. She’s lying on top of a pile of bodies, and then another meteor strikes, and the feed is lost.
Then, it gets really bizarre.
I’m seeing feed from airplane cameras. People in their seats, looking disturbed, around, and behind them there is no end to the plane – only open, dark sky and fire boiling up from the earth. I watch it consume them. Plane after plane. Skin peeling off their face and bodies, stomachs bloating and then erupting. Screaming. Plane after plane.
And then I finally wake up.
Probably just a jumble of crap from the day previous melding with my fear of flying. Yeah, yeah, safer than cars, but I can walk away from a car after an accident; not so a plane. And never tell me the odds – I’m the 5% girl. If that’s the chance it will happen, it will happen to me.
Which I know is irrational and needlessly worrying. I know, I know.
Still a mighty fucked up dream.