sight isn’t always necessary

Last night I had a nightmare, and it’s been sticking with me all day. Maybe it’s because I’m listening to the the sensitive and wistful melodies sung by Trent Reznor on the NIN album, “The Fragile”. That’s definitely not helping, although a little “Closer” always cheers me up (everyone likes being fucked like an animal).

Whoa, did I just swear?

Anyway, here’s the dream. In describing it to a few people today, they’re quick to ask if I watched a scary movie, or ate a pickle before bed, or was drinking heavily, or various other plausible explanations for why I would dream about the end of the world. I assured all of them that no, I did not do anything out of the ordinary last night. In fact, it was one of the most boring evenings I’ve experienced in a while. Strangely though, when I turned off all of the lights to go up to bed, I was not afraid of the dark.

A friend suggested the first line… it seemed funny at the time but now it’s just scaring me.

The sun was broken.

Everything in the path of the vicious rays coming from the sun could not survive. Where beaches full of happy, smiling, laughing families and lovers once stood, only sand existed now, never again to be beaten by the pounding of cool ocean waves. The water was gone, or at least receeded enough to be unreachable by the humans that so desperately needed it on the coastline. Ashes, or possibly sand, covered the entire planet, creating a destitute landscape of nothingness, save for the bodies covering the ground.

For some reason (and I don’t remember the reason because the dream seemed to drag on and on, but each incredibly long segment was so devoid of answers), Connor and I had to travel during the day. We protested and fought the people taking us, because I knew it was not safe to travel during the day, but we were dragged onto a bus full of screaming people going somewhere. We immediately took cover under a seat to protect our skin from the sun – I remember fearing that I was going to suffocate Connor because I was covering him so much – but he kept assuring me that he was fine. My arms were burning (and I felt it!) but I refused to move, as I knew my arms were the only thing left to save my son.

Then I was in a ruined house. Jay was there – he looked disheveled and dirty, and he obviously hadn’t eaten, showered, or shaved in weeks. I was trying as hard as I could to convince him to leave the home, that it wasn’t safe and eventually he would die there, probably sooner than he thought, if he didn’t come with us. Suddenly a ray of sun – there were visible rays like knives that would shoot out of the sun periodically and disintegrate everything in it’s path – burst through the ceiling and carved a deep black trench through the house between where Jay lay and where I was pleading with him to follow me.

Then I was back in the bus, struggling for air, listening to screams and cries of people with skin exposed all around me, undoubtedly because their skin was being singed. We spotted an overpass, with what looked like thousands of people underneath struggling to stay in the shadows. The bus driver plowed into the crowd of people to ensure we were well into the shadow enough to get all passengers on the bus to safety, but I was sure that not all of the people in the path of the bus had time to move out of the way.

The last thing I remember is seeing Ravneet, with scratches and bruises marking her face and burns covering her arms, and feeling relieved that at least someone else I knew had survived besides just Connor and I. The three of us watched in horror, in the middle of the crowd of people struggling for life, as one by one unfortunate souls would either be cast out violently or would trip, falling into the sunlight, and would wither and die. I realized why Ravneet looked so beaten; I saw huge fights breaking out, and people literally fighting to death just to get a trickle of water from stolen or discarded canteens.

One of the strangest things about my dream was the fact that Connor was there – I’m sure he was the same age as he is now, but every conversation I had with him was as if he were an adult. I never felt fear for his life, because I was so sure that he would survive.

Weird.