Aliens and Fimbulwinter
My subconscious is a really, really strange place.
Two more dreams I have to note, or I will forget them. One funny, one important.
Last night I dreamed I was a consultant for the Company, you know, from the Alien movies. They were sick and tired of having hideous chestbursting monsters overrun their ships, so they hired me to design a ship that, ergonomically speaking, would discourage infestation.
I know there are people who really do this, but I can't remember what they're called. They go through everything from zoos to homes to office buildings and make sure everything is arranged to be super-efficient. So this is what I did, prowling the ship like an overpaid feng-shui expert with my little clipboard in tow.
At last I had the meeting with their execs.
"Your problem is the blast doors," I explained. "They open down the middle, like regular doors. You want mirrored doors that open horizontally, that split across the width like a Dutch door, and slide away in two pieces. This will solve your problem."
I demonstrated my theory by releasing aliens onto a modified ship for experimental purposes. They tore around like crazed, insectile ferrets of death. Until I pushed the button, raising the lower half of the blast doors. Whereupon they careened into them like cats into a sliding glass door, knocking themselves senseless.
End of dream.
I woke up laughing.
Please tell me I am not the only one amused by unspeakable space monsters braining themselves at high velocity.
My other dream was terrifically symbolic (and I hate to be snarky, but I know if I don't, I'll wish I had said something, so: before any of you seven hundred some-odd folks leap to helpfully interpret this dream for me, please don't -- It's a very personal thing, and I'm generally fine with interpreting them for myself, really).
I rarely have end-of-the-world dreams, but this one was definitely apocalyptic.
I was driving on the highway in the car with my husband and my Dad. The radio stations would pick up nothing but static. The sky was black, though it was supposed to be around noon. We passed beneath a trio of underpasses, all of which were aflame, passed the wreckage of cars and bodies strewn down the slopes. To the left, the skyline of the city smoked with the fires of Armageddon.
Ahead, the black sky boiled with light, lancing white beams of sun piercing the clouds, revealing a city-sized UFO looming out of the cloudcover. Of course, we had the typical "Holy fuck! Aliens are invading!" moment. Then my dad lunged out of the backseat and tried to strangle me with metal tentacles that burst from his arms. He was an alien robot. The car went off the road, and I sunk into blackness.
I awoke to the falling of snow. It was the same dream, but now everything was animated (I love it when my dreams do this, by the way). A little blonde girl was trying to help me get up. I managed, and together we began searching for shelter. I knew I had to find shelter, or the little girl would die. The snow was deep, three feet at least, with more falling every minute. The wind blew, a merciless, bone-chilling cold. Somehow the world had been cursed with eternal winter (very The Day After Tomorrow). We slogged through a hilly forest full of young pine trees. It was lovely, but utterly hellish. I sincerely was dreaming the sensation of cold. Quite unpleasant.
Then the White Winds came, winds that froze anything they touched (again, very The Day After Tomorrow). We hid in the shelter of some rocks, but it wasn't enough. Between the blasts, we staggered toward a stand of trees. The little girl ran to gather branches as I dove under a tree, scraping out a hollow in the snow. I bent the pine branches down, sitting on them if I had to, to form a protective cocoon around my body. I was shivering. I heard the banshee wail of another wind, and called to warn her, but she was too slow. Blue-white ice crystals covered the world and I huddled within the sheltering tree, watching everything disappear into white.
Then I am standing in my mother's backyard. Winter has gone, it's the middle of spring. The house is still there, but it is empty. The world is empty. A huge crack, like the one through which Hades must have claimed Persephone, looms across the earth of the backyard. I stare at it in horror, wondering how deep it goes, if I can possibly fill it. But as I approach, I see that grass is growing up from it, that there is a bottom. This is no wound, but a healing scar. Huge seed-heads rise from the crevasse, grass like fur. On the other side of it, near the maple tree, is the wild strawberry patch. They have bloomed, little yellow flowers like buttons, and their grainy red fruit. These are the biggest wild strawberries I have ever seen, the largest is the size of a shooter marble.
I pick a couple, and eat them. Instead of the usual bland, cool, grassy taste, they are sweet, and they taste red.
Whether I feel it or not, there is hope.
And, hey. Even if the aliens do come to kill us all, I'll just send them my resumé. I'm a damn good efficiency expert.
link
Two more dreams I have to note, or I will forget them. One funny, one important.
Last night I dreamed I was a consultant for the Company, you know, from the Alien movies. They were sick and tired of having hideous chestbursting monsters overrun their ships, so they hired me to design a ship that, ergonomically speaking, would discourage infestation.
I know there are people who really do this, but I can't remember what they're called. They go through everything from zoos to homes to office buildings and make sure everything is arranged to be super-efficient. So this is what I did, prowling the ship like an overpaid feng-shui expert with my little clipboard in tow.
At last I had the meeting with their execs.
"Your problem is the blast doors," I explained. "They open down the middle, like regular doors. You want mirrored doors that open horizontally, that split across the width like a Dutch door, and slide away in two pieces. This will solve your problem."
I demonstrated my theory by releasing aliens onto a modified ship for experimental purposes. They tore around like crazed, insectile ferrets of death. Until I pushed the button, raising the lower half of the blast doors. Whereupon they careened into them like cats into a sliding glass door, knocking themselves senseless.
End of dream.
I woke up laughing.
Please tell me I am not the only one amused by unspeakable space monsters braining themselves at high velocity.
My other dream was terrifically symbolic (and I hate to be snarky, but I know if I don't, I'll wish I had said something, so: before any of you seven hundred some-odd folks leap to helpfully interpret this dream for me, please don't -- It's a very personal thing, and I'm generally fine with interpreting them for myself, really).
I rarely have end-of-the-world dreams, but this one was definitely apocalyptic.
I was driving on the highway in the car with my husband and my Dad. The radio stations would pick up nothing but static. The sky was black, though it was supposed to be around noon. We passed beneath a trio of underpasses, all of which were aflame, passed the wreckage of cars and bodies strewn down the slopes. To the left, the skyline of the city smoked with the fires of Armageddon.
Ahead, the black sky boiled with light, lancing white beams of sun piercing the clouds, revealing a city-sized UFO looming out of the cloudcover. Of course, we had the typical "Holy fuck! Aliens are invading!" moment. Then my dad lunged out of the backseat and tried to strangle me with metal tentacles that burst from his arms. He was an alien robot. The car went off the road, and I sunk into blackness.
I awoke to the falling of snow. It was the same dream, but now everything was animated (I love it when my dreams do this, by the way). A little blonde girl was trying to help me get up. I managed, and together we began searching for shelter. I knew I had to find shelter, or the little girl would die. The snow was deep, three feet at least, with more falling every minute. The wind blew, a merciless, bone-chilling cold. Somehow the world had been cursed with eternal winter (very The Day After Tomorrow). We slogged through a hilly forest full of young pine trees. It was lovely, but utterly hellish. I sincerely was dreaming the sensation of cold. Quite unpleasant.
Then the White Winds came, winds that froze anything they touched (again, very The Day After Tomorrow). We hid in the shelter of some rocks, but it wasn't enough. Between the blasts, we staggered toward a stand of trees. The little girl ran to gather branches as I dove under a tree, scraping out a hollow in the snow. I bent the pine branches down, sitting on them if I had to, to form a protective cocoon around my body. I was shivering. I heard the banshee wail of another wind, and called to warn her, but she was too slow. Blue-white ice crystals covered the world and I huddled within the sheltering tree, watching everything disappear into white.
Then I am standing in my mother's backyard. Winter has gone, it's the middle of spring. The house is still there, but it is empty. The world is empty. A huge crack, like the one through which Hades must have claimed Persephone, looms across the earth of the backyard. I stare at it in horror, wondering how deep it goes, if I can possibly fill it. But as I approach, I see that grass is growing up from it, that there is a bottom. This is no wound, but a healing scar. Huge seed-heads rise from the crevasse, grass like fur. On the other side of it, near the maple tree, is the wild strawberry patch. They have bloomed, little yellow flowers like buttons, and their grainy red fruit. These are the biggest wild strawberries I have ever seen, the largest is the size of a shooter marble.
I pick a couple, and eat them. Instead of the usual bland, cool, grassy taste, they are sweet, and they taste red.
Whether I feel it or not, there is hope.
And, hey. Even if the aliens do come to kill us all, I'll just send them my resumé. I'm a damn good efficiency expert.
link