Bad dream
The first part that I can remember is a group of people. Watching them, about thirty of them, existing and laughing and living. I turned away and turned back and a huge explosion had taken them out. Not a bomb, but an explosion of fire. There was an arsonist around there somewhere.
So I think we were at Boone, but an incredibly warped version of it. My friend and I went for a walk and we passed another group of people outside. A few miles down we hear another horrendous sound and decide we should turn back. The entire group of people that had been out there was dead and mangled on the floor, some still burning from the torrent of fire that had burst through the huge windows of the building.
A riot at had started. Everything was on fire and we were running trying to figure out where to go while people shouted and destroyed things in large groups, fighting in the streets even.
And that’s when I saw her. The fire a backlight to her irrationally calm face as she hung onto the streetlight, an overly large streetlight, but still not big enough. I panicked because I couldn’t find a solution right away. If she could hold on for just a few minutes, maybe I could get someone, a fireman, but there were no firemen. Maybe a ladder. Something. I saw her hand slipping, and she attempted to hold with her elbow, but it was slipping to and I was screaming from her level, four stories up, not to let go. I was too far from her to help, I was at least fifteen feet away. And I could see in her expression that she was apathetic because she knew she wasn’t going to make it. I continued screaming, no sammy, don’t let go, please, hold on sammy, I’ll figure something out, sammy don’t let go I can’t lose you.
And I took off down the stairs in hopes of reaching the bottom to catch her when she lost her grip. And she slipped and fell and I got knocked out somewhere on my way down.
I remember thinking subconsciously that she’d fallen. I hoped, in my blackout, that she’d just broken her legs, but survived. Anything, as long as she was still there. Here, in this world and that I hadn’t failed.
When I came to, I asked whoever was around and they told me she hadn’t made it. I screamed, no, this can’t happen, I was too late, this can’t be happening, she has to be alive. I cried.
I must have been crying in my sleep.
So I think we were at Boone, but an incredibly warped version of it. My friend and I went for a walk and we passed another group of people outside. A few miles down we hear another horrendous sound and decide we should turn back. The entire group of people that had been out there was dead and mangled on the floor, some still burning from the torrent of fire that had burst through the huge windows of the building.
A riot at had started. Everything was on fire and we were running trying to figure out where to go while people shouted and destroyed things in large groups, fighting in the streets even.
And that’s when I saw her. The fire a backlight to her irrationally calm face as she hung onto the streetlight, an overly large streetlight, but still not big enough. I panicked because I couldn’t find a solution right away. If she could hold on for just a few minutes, maybe I could get someone, a fireman, but there were no firemen. Maybe a ladder. Something. I saw her hand slipping, and she attempted to hold with her elbow, but it was slipping to and I was screaming from her level, four stories up, not to let go. I was too far from her to help, I was at least fifteen feet away. And I could see in her expression that she was apathetic because she knew she wasn’t going to make it. I continued screaming, no sammy, don’t let go, please, hold on sammy, I’ll figure something out, sammy don’t let go I can’t lose you.
And I took off down the stairs in hopes of reaching the bottom to catch her when she lost her grip. And she slipped and fell and I got knocked out somewhere on my way down.
I remember thinking subconsciously that she’d fallen. I hoped, in my blackout, that she’d just broken her legs, but survived. Anything, as long as she was still there. Here, in this world and that I hadn’t failed.
When I came to, I asked whoever was around and they told me she hadn’t made it. I screamed, no, this can’t happen, I was too late, this can’t be happening, she has to be alive. I cried.
I must have been crying in my sleep.