We were in a van. Roger was driving, and I was in the front passenger seat. The three youngest kids were in the backseats. The street ahead was crowded with people, many of them armed with enormous guns with wide barrels. Roger turned right at the intersection, but took the turn too fast and -- through a slow-motion series of events that can only happen in a dream -- the van ended up completely upside down in the middle of the now deserted road.
I unbuckled from my seat and crawled to the back of the van to free the kids from their car seats and seatbelts. They were unhurt, and I felt such relief! But relief soon turned to worry; how were we going to get out of this mess (read: how are we going to pay for this?), and WHERE THE HECK WERE THE PEOPLE WHO CAN HELP US?
Then gunshots, so many gunshots. I lost count of how many as I scrambled to keep my kids flat on the floor of the van (which was actually the roof) to avoid being hit by a bullet. The entire van was filled with the very palpable presence of fear and anxiety.
Fortunately, because it was a dream, the people shooting at us had terrible aim and no one was hit.
I unbuckled from my seat and crawled to the back of the van to free the kids from their car seats and seatbelts. They were unhurt, and I felt such relief! But relief soon turned to worry; how were we going to get out of this mess (read: how are we going to pay for this?), and WHERE THE HECK WERE THE PEOPLE WHO CAN HELP US?
Then gunshots, so many gunshots. I lost count of how many as I scrambled to keep my kids flat on the floor of the van (which was actually the roof) to avoid being hit by a bullet. The entire van was filled with the very palpable presence of fear and anxiety.
Fortunately, because it was a dream, the people shooting at us had terrible aim and no one was hit.
What does it mean? Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Scientists are keenly interested in sleep research and what happens in the brain when we slumber. Meanwhile, armchair philosophers claim to be able to interpret dreams. I've never given any of it much thought other than waking up from a particularly weird or scary dream with a deep sense of relief or sometimes longing.
But here's my private theory: October arrived again, as it always does, and sucked the air out of the room. October means pain.
And now, apparently, October is gunning for me and a few more of my kids.
But here's my private theory: October arrived again, as it always does, and sucked the air out of the room. October means pain.
And now, apparently, October is gunning for me and a few more of my kids.
RSS Feed
