(no subject)
I just dreamt we were getting bombed by Poland. In this warehouse where I was, there were others, there was a tea party, there was a model T and another farther behind. I was trying to hitch a ride. I got the first one but my seat was reserved for another woman, a fat one, and they drove me to the second car which was also reserved for someone else, a row of mailboxes also. So I made a run for it because only I really knew we were getting bombed. I knew the planes were circling. I ran from the warehouse in time to see planes dropping two orange suns onto the building. They were small, and they would destroy the place. I considered the possibility of dying to run in and warn everyone but as I ran I thought, "Shouldn't I want to be a hero? I wouldn't save them and I would die myself." And I ran to the park where Liz was. Her minivan. Her group of friends. Horse dung and then there were candies of all sorts from their food fight on the ground. They were about to leave. I warned Liz of the attack. The first attack America had really sustained and it was in Washington, fancy that. In reality. She was concerned. I offered that we get some motorbikes and six days' food supply and go through the Mark Worth to Eastern Washington, where no one would ever dream of bombing. She was pretty into it, but there was a fight to put up once we cleared Sunny Hill's ridge. The whole chasm wherein the streamlet runs became our grounds for fighting these opponents, whoever they were. Knocked out one, it popped back. There were other ways. There were other fights. What happened is too complicated for words but there was a man and he didn't want us to survive, and there was a film.