"When I die and they lay me to rest, I'm gonna go to the place that's the best!" - Norman Greenbaum
Two evenings ago, sometime about seven o'clock when the sun was going down, I fell asleep somewhere in between writing a new script that I'm working on and preparing for my next two montage projects. While I was sleeping, it began to drizzle and then I heard harmless drizzling form into heavy rain, and then the heavy rain turned into stomping hail. But in my mind, something else was going on entirely: A nuclear assault on the city.
I remember the dream in somewhat vivid detail, but as usual: My subconscious world became a place of darkness after a little while spent in it (and even scarier this time around compared to previous entries into my dreaming mind, no less).
The dream started off when I was on the Staten Island Ferry returning home to the city on a nice blue-skied day as the sun shined brilliantly; I was standing out on the deck at the head of the boat, we were approaching the Statue of Liberty I remember, and then all of a sudden there was a HUGE ENVELOPING BRIGHT LIGHT that shot up and arose straight up from the middle of the Manhattan's approaching skyline. The light was so bright, in fact, that I actually remember clinching my eyes tight as I continued to sleep.
In the dream, my eyes opened after a moment and as the light died down, a massive mushroom cloud became visible from the exact same spot where the piercing white light had originally shot up from. No longer was it a nice blue-skied day: Instead, the velvet blue sky that was just there a moment ago was now blood-shot red with the clouds burning. I heard myself, like a voiceover in the second person, say something to the extent of "Here it comes" or "It's coming" as the blastwave shot it's way over the surface of the water toward myself and the rest of the people on the Ferry.
But before the blastwave was able to hit me, I protectfully covered my face using my forearms. As my arms lowered from my face, I could see that I was no longer on the Ferry, but now on a rooftop overlooking the Whitestone Bridge near my old stomping grounds at Lehman High School. Everything was fine again: Blue skies, white clouds, the sun was shining, and it felt like the best part of October.
I immediately walked to the ledge of the roof in a relieved mood. While I continued to look over the high ledge of the building I'd found myself on, I saw that the connecting elevated highway ramps of the Whitestone Bridge weren't too far adjacent to the building. Still calm, I watched the ordinary terrain of my busy hometown as the sun went down.... but then I saw a new mushroom cloud form in the distance at about ninety miles away right in the middle of the city; the sky didn't transform into a dreadful red shade this time around though.
Another nuclear blast occurred closer (about fifty miles away this time) moments afterwards. Again. And again. And again. Closer, each time, until one of the explosions finally came close enough for it's blastwave to split the building that I was standing on in half. The top half, along with the rooftop that I was standing on, began to slide off of it's foundation and fall onto the highway ramps full of panicking/speeding cars next to the building. I fell, along with the building, onto the ramps - but as soon as I touched the surface of the highway, it crumbled and fell straight to the ground-level highway that was underneath it.
As only a dream would have it: I survived the fall. Racing from the rubble of the fallen highway, I ran across the panicking car-laden ground-leveled freeway in hopes of getting to the wooded area on the other side, but out of nowhere - after dodging speeding car after speeding car - I looked to my right and a speeding truck's headlights raced towards me like a bullet train. And then the dream was over.... I woke up.
As I woke up, with my heart pounding and my blood rushing, I turned over and looked at my cable box for the time: It was 12:29 in the morning. Everyone in the house was sleep and the continuing rain and hail was now accompanied by thunder and lightning: Probably the two very things that I interpreted as nuclear bombs exploding in my dream.
A bit unnerved by my recent dream, I went downstairs to check on my mom (out of instinct I suppose), and much to my ire: The bright lights (reminiscent of the bright explosions from the dream) from the scanner part of my grandmother's printer were left on as my mom slept soundly in the pitch-black living room in the middle of the night.... in the beginning of the witching hour. Restless, I turned the printer off and returned back to my room for the rest of the night as the bad weather continued.
That morning (yesterday), much to my amazement, my grandfather showed me the headline of the newspaper after it was delivered to the house: A tornado had been ripping up parts of the city all the previous night long while I was sleeping....
Two evenings ago, sometime about seven o'clock when the sun was going down, I fell asleep somewhere in between writing a new script that I'm working on and preparing for my next two montage projects. While I was sleeping, it began to drizzle and then I heard harmless drizzling form into heavy rain, and then the heavy rain turned into stomping hail. But in my mind, something else was going on entirely: A nuclear assault on the city.
I remember the dream in somewhat vivid detail, but as usual: My subconscious world became a place of darkness after a little while spent in it (and even scarier this time around compared to previous entries into my dreaming mind, no less).
The dream started off when I was on the Staten Island Ferry returning home to the city on a nice blue-skied day as the sun shined brilliantly; I was standing out on the deck at the head of the boat, we were approaching the Statue of Liberty I remember, and then all of a sudden there was a HUGE ENVELOPING BRIGHT LIGHT that shot up and arose straight up from the middle of the Manhattan's approaching skyline. The light was so bright, in fact, that I actually remember clinching my eyes tight as I continued to sleep.
In the dream, my eyes opened after a moment and as the light died down, a massive mushroom cloud became visible from the exact same spot where the piercing white light had originally shot up from. No longer was it a nice blue-skied day: Instead, the velvet blue sky that was just there a moment ago was now blood-shot red with the clouds burning. I heard myself, like a voiceover in the second person, say something to the extent of "Here it comes" or "It's coming" as the blastwave shot it's way over the surface of the water toward myself and the rest of the people on the Ferry.
But before the blastwave was able to hit me, I protectfully covered my face using my forearms. As my arms lowered from my face, I could see that I was no longer on the Ferry, but now on a rooftop overlooking the Whitestone Bridge near my old stomping grounds at Lehman High School. Everything was fine again: Blue skies, white clouds, the sun was shining, and it felt like the best part of October.
I immediately walked to the ledge of the roof in a relieved mood. While I continued to look over the high ledge of the building I'd found myself on, I saw that the connecting elevated highway ramps of the Whitestone Bridge weren't too far adjacent to the building. Still calm, I watched the ordinary terrain of my busy hometown as the sun went down.... but then I saw a new mushroom cloud form in the distance at about ninety miles away right in the middle of the city; the sky didn't transform into a dreadful red shade this time around though.
Another nuclear blast occurred closer (about fifty miles away this time) moments afterwards. Again. And again. And again. Closer, each time, until one of the explosions finally came close enough for it's blastwave to split the building that I was standing on in half. The top half, along with the rooftop that I was standing on, began to slide off of it's foundation and fall onto the highway ramps full of panicking/speeding cars next to the building. I fell, along with the building, onto the ramps - but as soon as I touched the surface of the highway, it crumbled and fell straight to the ground-level highway that was underneath it.
As only a dream would have it: I survived the fall. Racing from the rubble of the fallen highway, I ran across the panicking car-laden ground-leveled freeway in hopes of getting to the wooded area on the other side, but out of nowhere - after dodging speeding car after speeding car - I looked to my right and a speeding truck's headlights raced towards me like a bullet train. And then the dream was over.... I woke up.
As I woke up, with my heart pounding and my blood rushing, I turned over and looked at my cable box for the time: It was 12:29 in the morning. Everyone in the house was sleep and the continuing rain and hail was now accompanied by thunder and lightning: Probably the two very things that I interpreted as nuclear bombs exploding in my dream.
A bit unnerved by my recent dream, I went downstairs to check on my mom (out of instinct I suppose), and much to my ire: The bright lights (reminiscent of the bright explosions from the dream) from the scanner part of my grandmother's printer were left on as my mom slept soundly in the pitch-black living room in the middle of the night.... in the beginning of the witching hour. Restless, I turned the printer off and returned back to my room for the rest of the night as the bad weather continued.
That morning (yesterday), much to my amazement, my grandfather showed me the headline of the newspaper after it was delivered to the house: A tornado had been ripping up parts of the city all the previous night long while I was sleeping....
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Montages, the artform thereof, and all subsequent works featured on this blog page are owned by DaiQuan M. Cain and are subject to copyright (#185729-V) under the U.S. Copyright Law of 1976 & the U.S. Library of Congress. Any thievery, unauthorized usage, or infringement of said work(s) and copyright(s) will result in a fine of up to $250,000 or more.