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Slept til after noon, waking up intermittently but always falling back into the same or similar dreams of the end of the world as we know it.
Nightmares, I suppose, but every time I woke I just thought, "Oh, good, that's not happening," rather than being actually scared, which is what I associate with nightmares.
I was in a group of nine, seven men, myself, and another woman. One of the men was my dad, and one of them, who looked like Viggo-as-Aragorn, was being called "Chris" by the other woman. We were in a big warehouse store, gathering up what we could, and he'd stopped in front of a display case which included Aragorn's sword. He wanted it, but his own hadn't come in before whatever happened, happened. Somebody pointed out that it was there for the taking, and over the protests of the other woman, he smashed the glass and pulled out the sword, following which we got the hell out. Somebody went back for something. The doors shut, locked, with people still inside, but we were all out, and as we looked around, all the other stores were shutting down too, lighted displays going dark as we watched. We set out down the street, my dad pushing a shopping cart of our loot in the rear, and it was making me nervous; I wanted somebody to watch his back. We came to a house, and the guys went inside to check if it was occupied. After a little time went by with no shouting, I went in myself, touring the marks they'd laid down to show an area had checked clear, and went up to the attic to look there. I turned on some lights, and then wondered if that would be conspicuous, but when I looked out the window, other houses had lights on as well. When I turned back, I saw that there was an elderly couple lying on the bed in the middle of the room, twisted up, blankets thrown off. I thought they were dead, but when I got closer, I could hear them breathing, and I dashed downstairs to the kitchen. The woman followed me, slapped me, and I fell to my knees, spreading my hands, apologizing for invading her home.
Woke up, and slept again.
Now I was in a big city, on my own, squatting in a house that had belonged to my parents. A boy my own age was advising me to give it up, to find myself a smaller space to call my own, only to take my possessions when I went. I didn't want to tell him that the place I was staying was mine, had belonged to my parents, but I took his advice and headed back, wondering how I might take my bed with me when I went somewhere new. When I arrived, my two blond sisters (one looked like Libby from Carnivale, the other was portrayed by Kirsten Dunst) were running down the stairs. I was angry--this was my place--but had to admit to myself that they had as much right to be there as I did. As soon as I got upstairs, I knew what they'd been doing: Libby was pregnant, and that just made me angrier. Of all the stupid times to have to worry about a kid, now was probably the stupidest.
Then: in my old bedroom, at my parents' house, looking out the window at the quiet neighborhood, empty streets, gray skies, thinking about what had gone wrong, how people thought it was aliens but nobody knew. Nobody knew what was really going on, everybody just sitting quiet and waiting.
When I woke up, I tried to imagine what that would be like, an apocalypse in silence. If power and communication and transportation failed, and we just had to wait, and wonder, what had happened, and what was coming. And then I was scared.
And after that, I came out to the living room, and it was snowing outside and beside the window was the Christmas tree, and beside that was the TV, showing Dubya addressing the nation, and all I could really think was, the power's on, he can speak to us, so everything's all right.
Nightmares, I suppose, but every time I woke I just thought, "Oh, good, that's not happening," rather than being actually scared, which is what I associate with nightmares.
I was in a group of nine, seven men, myself, and another woman. One of the men was my dad, and one of them, who looked like Viggo-as-Aragorn, was being called "Chris" by the other woman. We were in a big warehouse store, gathering up what we could, and he'd stopped in front of a display case which included Aragorn's sword. He wanted it, but his own hadn't come in before whatever happened, happened. Somebody pointed out that it was there for the taking, and over the protests of the other woman, he smashed the glass and pulled out the sword, following which we got the hell out. Somebody went back for something. The doors shut, locked, with people still inside, but we were all out, and as we looked around, all the other stores were shutting down too, lighted displays going dark as we watched. We set out down the street, my dad pushing a shopping cart of our loot in the rear, and it was making me nervous; I wanted somebody to watch his back. We came to a house, and the guys went inside to check if it was occupied. After a little time went by with no shouting, I went in myself, touring the marks they'd laid down to show an area had checked clear, and went up to the attic to look there. I turned on some lights, and then wondered if that would be conspicuous, but when I looked out the window, other houses had lights on as well. When I turned back, I saw that there was an elderly couple lying on the bed in the middle of the room, twisted up, blankets thrown off. I thought they were dead, but when I got closer, I could hear them breathing, and I dashed downstairs to the kitchen. The woman followed me, slapped me, and I fell to my knees, spreading my hands, apologizing for invading her home.
Woke up, and slept again.
Now I was in a big city, on my own, squatting in a house that had belonged to my parents. A boy my own age was advising me to give it up, to find myself a smaller space to call my own, only to take my possessions when I went. I didn't want to tell him that the place I was staying was mine, had belonged to my parents, but I took his advice and headed back, wondering how I might take my bed with me when I went somewhere new. When I arrived, my two blond sisters (one looked like Libby from Carnivale, the other was portrayed by Kirsten Dunst) were running down the stairs. I was angry--this was my place--but had to admit to myself that they had as much right to be there as I did. As soon as I got upstairs, I knew what they'd been doing: Libby was pregnant, and that just made me angrier. Of all the stupid times to have to worry about a kid, now was probably the stupidest.
Then: in my old bedroom, at my parents' house, looking out the window at the quiet neighborhood, empty streets, gray skies, thinking about what had gone wrong, how people thought it was aliens but nobody knew. Nobody knew what was really going on, everybody just sitting quiet and waiting.
When I woke up, I tried to imagine what that would be like, an apocalypse in silence. If power and communication and transportation failed, and we just had to wait, and wonder, what had happened, and what was coming. And then I was scared.
And after that, I came out to the living room, and it was snowing outside and beside the window was the Christmas tree, and beside that was the TV, showing Dubya addressing the nation, and all I could really think was, the power's on, he can speak to us, so everything's all right.