Dreams seem like fabrications of our imagination, strung together from past experiences to create a feeling and emotion.
Emotions.
Feelings.
Thoughts.
Warnings? But I ask myself, “Self?”
Self says, “Yes, Self?”
“What is the significance of dreams? Where do they come from? Why do they exist?”
The dream (Paraphrased)
I was in a car with my favorite cousin, and a close mutual friend of ours, who passed away last year. We were on our way to a University for something; I can’t remember.
*This section is blank… There is no memory of it*
Next thing I know, we’re walking across the campus, and we hear a loud explosion. It vibrated so hard, sending shivers up and down my body. The impact of the blast caused my vision to become unfocused somewhat.
When I looked into the sky, I saw a ball of flames. I knew, at that moment, the war made its way to America. I panicked, hit the ground and covered up my head. My cousin picked my stiff body up, and screamed, “What the fuck are you lying down for? Do you want to get blown up?”
We started running across the campus, balls of fire climbing high in the sky, followed by a squirting sound. Screams of other individuals rang through the night, causing that elusive feeling of utter terror beyond image and belief.
As I was running toward one of the park lots, I felt the ground shaking underneath me. I looked down and saw the concrete cracking, a glowing, hot stream of lava pushing its way through the ground. Suddenly, the lava trail stopped...
Silence... I realized that these things were not exploding simultaneously.
BOOM! The ground exploded, shards of concrete, rock, and dirt went flying into the air, along with a ball of fire. My heart stopped, but I knew I had to make my way to my car.
When the fire ball stopped climbing to the heavens, it disappeared into the night sky, and this purple-looking liquid sprang from the busted concrete. Some of the liquid fell on my face, and arm, burned the shit out of me.
I ran to the parking lot where my car was supposed to be at, and I found nothing. My car was missing. Contrary to the actions I may have performed in my dream, I am a very nice young man, but during those few moments, I made up in my mind to hot-wire someone’s car and get the fuck up out of there.
A friend of mine started the car up, how, I didn’t bother to ask.
Next, Reese Witherspoon came up to me, hair the color of hay, and looked at me cross. She walked up to this white car that I choose to steal.
“Terry, what are you doing?” she asked me.
“This isn’t my car. I know this. But I am not about to be walking around here on foot while these things blow up right under my slow walking feet!” I screamed.
“As an officer of the law, I’m going to have to ask you to escort the vehicle or you’ll be charged with grand theft auto.”
“What?” I asked. She wasn’t making any sense. When did she go to law school (besides Legally Blonde 1 and 2)?
Then, what saved my life at that moment (because I was going to go to jail or get blown up) happened.
My phone rang, and I woke up. I was grunting and tossing myself back and forth. It seemed like some shit right out of a movie. It’s been so long since I’ve had a dream like that. I wonder what it meant.