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Yet Another Atomic Bomb Dream
Jun. 20th, 2005 09:33 amI had a disturbing dream last night . . . as per usual, it's summer, time of the atomic bomb dreams . . .
For some reason, the entire senior class (ah, yes, time for those lingering-memory dreams, too, lol . . . though I suppose I'll be dreaming about my "childhood" classes for the rest of my life, particularly since I've already had so many lingering memories about Roosevelt and North Side, lol . . . ) was going on a trip to measure something for a physics class by swinging on swings. I was partnered with Laura, and, since I had to use one of the nasty, plastic little port-a-potty bathrooms attached at the side of each of the sets of three swings (this was some new ergometric design, lol . . . ), we were late, and had trouble finding one. Mine was all wet, and I kept slipping off, so it made it difficult measure. Anyway, I had noticed, in my time in the potty, that it said that it was the only bomb shelter available, and a very crappy one at that, probably only barely reinforced with concrete, if anything . . . lol . . . so it started getting later, so we had to go home, since there was going to be a bomb detonated later that day and we had to be somewhere safer for it.
Apparently, in the dream, my cousin James had built a bomb in his basement-- and not just the silly soap-and-gasoline napalm like my dad made. It was a straight-up atomic bomb. Apparently, though, it was still very portable, and he wanted to test it on our school. So we're all sitting in the cafeteria (which, for some random reason, is the lake . . . as in, we're all sitting in the water eating), and Mom had instructed me not to go anywhere near the bomb, not because, oh, well, it was dangerous, but because it was my cousin's project and I wasn't allowed to mess it up. Kristina, however, wanted to stop it, so she swam up to where James was positioning himself, and waited so that maybe she might be able to stop him.
I just waited back along in the water, watching. Nichole wasn't there; I guess it was just supposed to take place the last few weeks of school when she wasn't there or something. I think I vaguely remember Alice and Robert and Liz floating around in the water randomly, too.
No one could stop it, though. Some boy with spikey black hair who looked like an anime character attacked him and tried to stop him, but he was thrown off. Everyone started making a fuss when he lit it (lit it?-- yet there was a fuse and everything, it was ridiculous, lol . . . ), and people started booing as soon as the hissing of the fuse started. Then, wisely, I ducked under the water. I looked down, unable and unwilling to manuever myself around to see up through the glass-like water. Yet I could sense what was going on by the temperature and the ripple of the water above me. First there was a flash, bright and blinding as old incandescent camera, even turned away from it and under the murky water. Then came the loud blast, which I could hear, and then a pause as the wind came rushing over me, the water turning deadly hot, the ripples dipping down to even affect my back. I held my breath for what felt like several minutes, the hot wind rushing and heating (what probably should have been boiling) the water.
Can ducking underwater really save you from an atomic bomb? I always try it in my dreams, with mixed results . . .
When I finally came up, I was surprised that everything was not as positively destroyed as I had thought. Corners of the lake were still green, not completely sand and flat. Some of the students had obviously not ducked under the water, but they were still alive, just drifting feebly in the now lukewarm lake, their skin rather yellowed and sickly. No one had died, as far as I could tell. James was gone-- not dead, just left.
I found Kristina, who had ducked rather than attempt to put out the flame (a rather wise decision on her part), and the two of us just collapsed into each other's arms and I started sobbing. When I recovered, I went into a rant about how stupid it was to detonate an atomic bomb over a high school (kind of funny how I was apparently the only one who thought to do this). I remember feeling mildly guilty, because it was my cousin who had done it.
I went home on a bus that was still in functioning capability, but I couldn't find my purse-- someone had taken advantage of the bomb to steal it. I reported it to the office, which was still standing, but no one was very helpful.
This entire thing was so loaded with symbolism. The fact that James was the one who did it is obviously my feeling that I have a connection to both the attackers and the victims in the atomic bombing, the former through bloodline and birth, by no choice of my own-- though with only limited choice for the latter, too. My guilt at railing against the attack fits with my wanting to be tactful to EVERYONE, even those who don't deserve it. There's more, too, but, shoot, I want my breakfast.
I heard this song on the radio as I woke up (played from the station at Jessica's college-to-be, lol), and liked it, and was waiting and waiting for it to tell me what it was, because it was eerie, and it ALMOST reminded me of Funf Stucke by Hindemith, but, really, just YHO in general (ahh, another fond memory, *sigh* lol . . . ), but it just kept playing movements . . . and it got to the third movement, and it was one that I recognized, and had played: Nocturne from Lyric Suite by Grieg-- which, of course, is followed by The Dance of the Trolls, which is right up there with Dance in the Hall of the Mountain King, lol . . . (yeah for devious little skulking things! Grieg is so good at that, lol . . . ). So then I looked up the Lyric Suite to find the movements for the one that I wanted to fit this entry.
For some reason, the entire senior class (ah, yes, time for those lingering-memory dreams, too, lol . . . though I suppose I'll be dreaming about my "childhood" classes for the rest of my life, particularly since I've already had so many lingering memories about Roosevelt and North Side, lol . . . ) was going on a trip to measure something for a physics class by swinging on swings. I was partnered with Laura, and, since I had to use one of the nasty, plastic little port-a-potty bathrooms attached at the side of each of the sets of three swings (this was some new ergometric design, lol . . . ), we were late, and had trouble finding one. Mine was all wet, and I kept slipping off, so it made it difficult measure. Anyway, I had noticed, in my time in the potty, that it said that it was the only bomb shelter available, and a very crappy one at that, probably only barely reinforced with concrete, if anything . . . lol . . . so it started getting later, so we had to go home, since there was going to be a bomb detonated later that day and we had to be somewhere safer for it.
Apparently, in the dream, my cousin James had built a bomb in his basement-- and not just the silly soap-and-gasoline napalm like my dad made. It was a straight-up atomic bomb. Apparently, though, it was still very portable, and he wanted to test it on our school. So we're all sitting in the cafeteria (which, for some random reason, is the lake . . . as in, we're all sitting in the water eating), and Mom had instructed me not to go anywhere near the bomb, not because, oh, well, it was dangerous, but because it was my cousin's project and I wasn't allowed to mess it up. Kristina, however, wanted to stop it, so she swam up to where James was positioning himself, and waited so that maybe she might be able to stop him.
I just waited back along in the water, watching. Nichole wasn't there; I guess it was just supposed to take place the last few weeks of school when she wasn't there or something. I think I vaguely remember Alice and Robert and Liz floating around in the water randomly, too.
No one could stop it, though. Some boy with spikey black hair who looked like an anime character attacked him and tried to stop him, but he was thrown off. Everyone started making a fuss when he lit it (lit it?-- yet there was a fuse and everything, it was ridiculous, lol . . . ), and people started booing as soon as the hissing of the fuse started. Then, wisely, I ducked under the water. I looked down, unable and unwilling to manuever myself around to see up through the glass-like water. Yet I could sense what was going on by the temperature and the ripple of the water above me. First there was a flash, bright and blinding as old incandescent camera, even turned away from it and under the murky water. Then came the loud blast, which I could hear, and then a pause as the wind came rushing over me, the water turning deadly hot, the ripples dipping down to even affect my back. I held my breath for what felt like several minutes, the hot wind rushing and heating (what probably should have been boiling) the water.
Can ducking underwater really save you from an atomic bomb? I always try it in my dreams, with mixed results . . .
When I finally came up, I was surprised that everything was not as positively destroyed as I had thought. Corners of the lake were still green, not completely sand and flat. Some of the students had obviously not ducked under the water, but they were still alive, just drifting feebly in the now lukewarm lake, their skin rather yellowed and sickly. No one had died, as far as I could tell. James was gone-- not dead, just left.
I found Kristina, who had ducked rather than attempt to put out the flame (a rather wise decision on her part), and the two of us just collapsed into each other's arms and I started sobbing. When I recovered, I went into a rant about how stupid it was to detonate an atomic bomb over a high school (kind of funny how I was apparently the only one who thought to do this). I remember feeling mildly guilty, because it was my cousin who had done it.
I went home on a bus that was still in functioning capability, but I couldn't find my purse-- someone had taken advantage of the bomb to steal it. I reported it to the office, which was still standing, but no one was very helpful.
This entire thing was so loaded with symbolism. The fact that James was the one who did it is obviously my feeling that I have a connection to both the attackers and the victims in the atomic bombing, the former through bloodline and birth, by no choice of my own-- though with only limited choice for the latter, too. My guilt at railing against the attack fits with my wanting to be tactful to EVERYONE, even those who don't deserve it. There's more, too, but, shoot, I want my breakfast.
I heard this song on the radio as I woke up (played from the station at Jessica's college-to-be, lol), and liked it, and was waiting and waiting for it to tell me what it was, because it was eerie, and it ALMOST reminded me of Funf Stucke by Hindemith, but, really, just YHO in general (ahh, another fond memory, *sigh* lol . . . ), but it just kept playing movements . . . and it got to the third movement, and it was one that I recognized, and had played: Nocturne from Lyric Suite by Grieg-- which, of course, is followed by The Dance of the Trolls, which is right up there with Dance in the Hall of the Mountain King, lol . . . (yeah for devious little skulking things! Grieg is so good at that, lol . . . ). So then I looked up the Lyric Suite to find the movements for the one that I wanted to fit this entry.
