Dreambox: I saved a baby this time!

Now that it’s the afternoon, I feel I can comment on how weird this morning was.

I woke up to screeching and creaking of things that sounded metallic and heavy.

In that blurry fugue state between sleep and alertness, I consciously left my dream. Just decided I was done with it, like I knew I didn’t need to see what happened next and I knew waking up was something I should do instead.
These natural disaster / apocalypse dreams happen more often than not lately. It’s new to me, considering I used to be that kid who rushed into the kitchen most mornings, excitedly tripping over my words in an effort to blurt everything I remembered before it was forgotten. I dreamed of flying off glassy cliffs into oceans of thick fog; reaching a plateau and slapping holes in the mist, still hurtling and giggling as I veer to avoid shafts of light from a purple sun. I dreamed of so many different special powers and abilities; I remember being fascinated with being invisible and not being too pleased with the ability to go through things (I went through everything. Fell through the earth and out the other side. Lame).

Now I dream about disasters. Before I go any further, I’d like to say I’m not one for reading into the shit I dream about. I don’t have any more access to what’s going to happen in the future than anyone else and there’s no way I’d be up-myself enough to imply that I have that kind of insight through my subconscious. Because it’s just subconscious-stuff. Things you’ve seen, things you’ve had on your mind, things you forgot. It’s generally pretty obvious to me which parts refer to what’s been on my mind and which parts are completely arbitrary and could be ignored. That said, dreams have higher value to other people and that’s fine. But I’m not going to be too impressed if someone calls me at 4AM saying they dreamed I died and had to check that I actually didn’t.

Last night’s delicious dumb-brain doom-time had me hitting the ground running. I was in a crouching position and there was a helicopter overhead. Everything (I mean everything) was caked in mud except for the pilot, who was waving goodbye as he(?) left me in the mud pit. It’s some time in the twilight hours, approaching dark. And it’s very cold. <<SHOULDER_CHECK>> appeared in letters that glowed a nice aqua-blue in front of my face, seemingly out of thin air. Like lines of code from an automatic heads-up mechanism. I think it felt weirdly normal.

<<TACTILE>> pending
<<OCULAR>> pending

Oh right… As I brush both my shoulders and swat at my upper back, I find cold metal slung behind me. An assault rifle.
Next, I’ve got to look behind me on both sides while being as quiet as I can. Just mud and twisted fences. The orange letters disappear, then the blue after a while.

<<KNEES_CHECK>>
<<RIGHT_SIDE_INJURY>>
<<FIND_ASSAJI>> pending

Assaji – I remember this character from Osamu Tezuka’s ‘Buddha’. The boy’s father was a savage hunter, so Assaji resolved to live in service of nature and follow Siddhartha around until he sacrificed himself to hungry animals in the wilderness.

Next thing I know, I’m aware that I’m running late and that I can feel small earthquakes. It’s not that they wouldn’t read highly on the Richter scale, but I felt they weren’t deadly. Annoying? Yes. Because I’m driving a truck through a wall and I’m trying to travel in the straightest lines I can manage. I think ‘Assaji’ is my child.

I’ve just broken into a hospital and there’s a fire on the other side of the wall I tried to get through. I still have the rifle, so I try shooting a padlock on a door to my right. The recoil fucks up my shoulder and right chest. More powerful than I intended, but at least it worked.

<<SHOULDER_CHECK>>
<<RIGHT_SIDE_INJURY>>
<<FIND_ASSAJI>>

That’s super helpful. I hate this. Where’s my son?
There’s a bed at the end of a short burning hallway. Light fittings are falling and shattering… chandeliers in a hospital? Hmm. There he is; feet sticking out from under the bed. Everything shakes. Time slows as I approach the event horizon. Beyond the bed is more fire, then we’re not far from a black hole, apparently. My left arm stretches for a few metres to grab one of his legs, which meets me in the middle. After an age of painful pulling, I’m standing and holding what looks like a one-maybe-two-year-old by his ankle and he seems glad to see me. He slithers up my arm and onto my shoulders. Fuck, that hurts. But he’s safe now. He’s laughing? At least he’s not crying.

Screeching metal. Rattling of chains. Shifting of gears. Thump and clatter. Awake for a few seconds.

Back inside a truck, I wonder how we’re outrunning the pull of a black hole. I look over at the boy and notice he’s not too fazed; he’s too busy squirming out of his restraints to play with my muddy hair. I turn on the radio as we drive over what’s left of a wire fence. The boy falls asleep. I think he likes Ministry. As I hear more screeching metal and hanging chains, I pull in next to my current house as I know it. I get out, walk around to the other side and scoop up my sleeping son, careful not to rely on my right arm (I never want to drop the baby, no matter how fictional). Then I enter where I live like any other day, but this time with a child. My child. I tiptoe up more flights of stairs than normal, then reach my bedroom. It seems smaller, but I know that’s my bed. I put the boy down and tuck him in, careful not to fall asleep while doing so. Then, when I’m sure he’s deeply asleep, I sit on the end of the bed and face the door.

More metal, more chains. The drone of a large diesel engine. We’ll be fine so long as I stay awake while the boy gets his sleep. Something heavy and rusted has been dropped and all I have to do is wait. It’s safe to leave now.

And so the dream ends as I wake to the handles of my drawers rattling to the moan of a digger in the neighbour’s yard. I’m awake now.

There’s good-weird and bad-weird… still trying to decide what that was.

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