Dr34ming, what!
I was reading through the dreams I have tagged in my journal here, and I realized that this one was not among them. It has to have been one of the only dreams that scared the piss outta me, so I think now is the time to type it up. It needs to be archived, fo sho.
This took place while I was working at the Mac Grill in CA. Wes, Amy and I were set to do this banquet at some hotel in a huge ballroom. It was strange, though, because it was like there was a hotel room connected to it that we were staying in. The three of us where there early, setting up for the event. Amy was in the other room with her uniform all untucked watching TV. Wes was filling tea and water pitchers, and I was straightening table cloths or something.
All of a sudden, this soundless concussion hits the room, and I am thrown upward, pinned against the ceiling. The most unsettling feeling rises in my stomach, as though I'm being pulled from my body by force, and every fiber in me is fighting it. I can't move, and can hardly speak, I'm just prone there, staring down at the room. Wes instantly starts trying to grab my feet, but they're pressed flat and he's not tall enough. He screams at Amy that something fucked up is going on, and she pokes her head around the wall to look. At that instant, the news program she had been watching declares that we are in a state of sudden war. The anchor proceeds to inform the masses that several tanks have been rolled in from each direction, emitting EMPs that capture people who are "prone". Apparently, if you are crouched or lying down, the concussions have no effect on you. Only those that are upright and unaware (walking, or otherwise moving and easy to knock down...or in this case, pin up...) are subject to being captured. The idea is to pin people to their ceilings, thusly incapacitating their ability to flee, until the soldiers could make the rounds to collect their newfound POWs.
At this point, Wes runs to the windows to look down, and reports to Amy and I that the city is full of soldiers en masse, slaughtering ruthlessly anyone who should cross their paths. He can see four tanks, moving from each of the points of the compass, carrying these giant satellite dishes which must be the source of the EMPs. They are all headed to the center of the city. I am utterly helpless, every hair on my body standing rigid, skin crawling with shivers of energy I haven't quite felt before. My stomach feels horridly nervous, like I'm plunging from an unknowable height.
Amy then reports from the other room that the anchorwoman discovered that soaking yourself in water stifles the electricity used to pin you to the ceiling, thus releasing you from this terrifying hold (hey, I don't question my dream physics, so neither should you). Wes starts grabbing pitchers of iced tea and water, and tosses them upward to douse me. It works, my legs are freed enough that he can grab hold of my ankles and help pull me downward. I fall to the ground, soaked, shivering, and terrified. We know we have to get out of there, so we crouch down low and start toward the doors.
Another giant pulse hits, and we flatten ourselves to the ground, evading it's capture. Every hair stands on end, and we move faster out of the hotel and down into the chaos of the streets below. Wes moves ahead and finds a place behind some debris to act as a lookout, while Amy and I make a run for his car. We jump in and start the engine, and he rushes after and slides behind the wheel. We start running people down, fleeing from the scene, until we're on the highway. Not so lucky, the road is barricaded off, and all traffic is being guided toward a single destination, back the way we came. So Wes pulls some crack driving skills out of his ass and makes this crazy U-turn, busting through the booths of the neighboring toll road, and we drive the wrong way on the highway, away from the city.
It does no good, as soon as we think we're safe, an entourage of vehicles materializes out of the heat waves in the road before us, military and police and the likes, and we are swept up again in a caravan leading back into the city. We have no choice but to comply, for now, so we go along to see where they are taking us.
Lo and behold, we wind up right back at the hotel. It seems like that is the base for the POWs they've collected, and in the minutes since we left, it has become all but a bombed out husk of the building it once was, the entire front facade blown open and exposing it's guts to the brutality on the streets before it. We are torn from our car, and shoved into a line of people deemed healthy enough to be of use, and are ushered into the hotel/makeshift concentration camp. Another blast hits, and this time, deafening noise accompanies where previously there was none. It isn't the EMPs, it's a bomb, and all that remains afterward is a thick rolling cloud of black smoke, and the most awful high-pitch wailing. I remember wondering if it is simply my ears ringing in misery after the effects of such a blast, or if it is something far worse, the joined cacophony of the injured and dying.
And on that note, I woke up in the worst cold sweat of my life, my heart racing, my throat aching as if I had been screaming. Never has a dream felt *this* real. The fact that I felt everything so distinctly, and could see every brutal detail so vividly, was astounding.
The. Scariest. Dream. Ever.
This took place while I was working at the Mac Grill in CA. Wes, Amy and I were set to do this banquet at some hotel in a huge ballroom. It was strange, though, because it was like there was a hotel room connected to it that we were staying in. The three of us where there early, setting up for the event. Amy was in the other room with her uniform all untucked watching TV. Wes was filling tea and water pitchers, and I was straightening table cloths or something.
All of a sudden, this soundless concussion hits the room, and I am thrown upward, pinned against the ceiling. The most unsettling feeling rises in my stomach, as though I'm being pulled from my body by force, and every fiber in me is fighting it. I can't move, and can hardly speak, I'm just prone there, staring down at the room. Wes instantly starts trying to grab my feet, but they're pressed flat and he's not tall enough. He screams at Amy that something fucked up is going on, and she pokes her head around the wall to look. At that instant, the news program she had been watching declares that we are in a state of sudden war. The anchor proceeds to inform the masses that several tanks have been rolled in from each direction, emitting EMPs that capture people who are "prone". Apparently, if you are crouched or lying down, the concussions have no effect on you. Only those that are upright and unaware (walking, or otherwise moving and easy to knock down...or in this case, pin up...) are subject to being captured. The idea is to pin people to their ceilings, thusly incapacitating their ability to flee, until the soldiers could make the rounds to collect their newfound POWs.
At this point, Wes runs to the windows to look down, and reports to Amy and I that the city is full of soldiers en masse, slaughtering ruthlessly anyone who should cross their paths. He can see four tanks, moving from each of the points of the compass, carrying these giant satellite dishes which must be the source of the EMPs. They are all headed to the center of the city. I am utterly helpless, every hair on my body standing rigid, skin crawling with shivers of energy I haven't quite felt before. My stomach feels horridly nervous, like I'm plunging from an unknowable height.
Amy then reports from the other room that the anchorwoman discovered that soaking yourself in water stifles the electricity used to pin you to the ceiling, thus releasing you from this terrifying hold (hey, I don't question my dream physics, so neither should you). Wes starts grabbing pitchers of iced tea and water, and tosses them upward to douse me. It works, my legs are freed enough that he can grab hold of my ankles and help pull me downward. I fall to the ground, soaked, shivering, and terrified. We know we have to get out of there, so we crouch down low and start toward the doors.
Another giant pulse hits, and we flatten ourselves to the ground, evading it's capture. Every hair stands on end, and we move faster out of the hotel and down into the chaos of the streets below. Wes moves ahead and finds a place behind some debris to act as a lookout, while Amy and I make a run for his car. We jump in and start the engine, and he rushes after and slides behind the wheel. We start running people down, fleeing from the scene, until we're on the highway. Not so lucky, the road is barricaded off, and all traffic is being guided toward a single destination, back the way we came. So Wes pulls some crack driving skills out of his ass and makes this crazy U-turn, busting through the booths of the neighboring toll road, and we drive the wrong way on the highway, away from the city.
It does no good, as soon as we think we're safe, an entourage of vehicles materializes out of the heat waves in the road before us, military and police and the likes, and we are swept up again in a caravan leading back into the city. We have no choice but to comply, for now, so we go along to see where they are taking us.
Lo and behold, we wind up right back at the hotel. It seems like that is the base for the POWs they've collected, and in the minutes since we left, it has become all but a bombed out husk of the building it once was, the entire front facade blown open and exposing it's guts to the brutality on the streets before it. We are torn from our car, and shoved into a line of people deemed healthy enough to be of use, and are ushered into the hotel/makeshift concentration camp. Another blast hits, and this time, deafening noise accompanies where previously there was none. It isn't the EMPs, it's a bomb, and all that remains afterward is a thick rolling cloud of black smoke, and the most awful high-pitch wailing. I remember wondering if it is simply my ears ringing in misery after the effects of such a blast, or if it is something far worse, the joined cacophony of the injured and dying.
And on that note, I woke up in the worst cold sweat of my life, my heart racing, my throat aching as if I had been screaming. Never has a dream felt *this* real. The fact that I felt everything so distinctly, and could see every brutal detail so vividly, was astounding.
The. Scariest. Dream. Ever.