Running From History
According to my husband, I scream in my sleep alot.
This morning I awoke with a start from a dream in which a person in a uniform and hat is chasing me into a parking garage under the building. The chase ends and I turn to face him/her, because I am tired of running and I see now I have endangered the people around me, as we are now in the hotel, and there are groups of people with luggage, some standing at the desk, and there are heavy floor to ceiling windows facing the street at my back.
I try to tell people to run, he/she has a bomb, and I rip the (blue?) uniform away from his/her chest, and I can see the tuxedo underneath, the chest unnaturally flat because they have secreted the explosives under a cardboard false front. The person has a long face, and I am filled with rage at the hopelessness of it.
People are starting to scramble, but I know some will not be fast enough, and I should have run the other direction, if only I had been faster, and I am so angry at this person for murdering all these innocent people just to get me. I tell the bomber, go ahead you bastard, if you're gonna do it, stop fucking around.
I am six inches from this monster, and I see his/her arm reach back and detonate the bomb strapped around his/her waist, and I am killed instantly. I awoke with a gasp.
I don't know, should I be glad that my nightmares no longer include so many mushroom clouds, since the Cold War petered out? Would it be better to have dreams about running from bears or Indians or Communists or ...?
This morning I awoke with a start from a dream in which a person in a uniform and hat is chasing me into a parking garage under the building. The chase ends and I turn to face him/her, because I am tired of running and I see now I have endangered the people around me, as we are now in the hotel, and there are groups of people with luggage, some standing at the desk, and there are heavy floor to ceiling windows facing the street at my back.
I try to tell people to run, he/she has a bomb, and I rip the (blue?) uniform away from his/her chest, and I can see the tuxedo underneath, the chest unnaturally flat because they have secreted the explosives under a cardboard false front. The person has a long face, and I am filled with rage at the hopelessness of it.
People are starting to scramble, but I know some will not be fast enough, and I should have run the other direction, if only I had been faster, and I am so angry at this person for murdering all these innocent people just to get me. I tell the bomber, go ahead you bastard, if you're gonna do it, stop fucking around.
I am six inches from this monster, and I see his/her arm reach back and detonate the bomb strapped around his/her waist, and I am killed instantly. I awoke with a gasp.
I don't know, should I be glad that my nightmares no longer include so many mushroom clouds, since the Cold War petered out? Would it be better to have dreams about running from bears or Indians or Communists or ...?