Good morning, everybody.
I was walking across a street intersection. It was a grey and dim day. The streets may possibly have been wet, as if it had been raining. A car pulled in front of me and then turned off to the left. I looked off to my left to see that a few cars were parked in a line, as if this area were a parking lot, not an intersection.
I was now on a grassy hillside with a young woman. We were near the crest of the hill, but not quite to it. A wide, leafy tree stood off to my right. I knelt on the ground, looking at the short grass. The woman stood higher up on the hill, looking down toward me.
I told the woman how when the nuclear bomb attack came -- I think we were expecting one rather soon -- the first thing that would happen would be a bomber plane would fly over us and drop whole plane-loads of babies.
After the babies were dropped, we would see the nuclear bomb blasts. I believe the thought was that the nuclear bombs would be released at a far distance from the sites where the babies had been dropped. But the nuclear bombs would be so powerful that we'd see them as distant, red glows from far away.
Still, something about the babies being dropped didn't make sense to me. The babies, I knew, would be from the attacking country. So why would the country want to attack all its babies?
I told the woman how if you were far enough away from a nuclear bomb, you didn't have to worry. But you had to be pretty far away to be safe. And if you weren't far enough away, you wouldn't have time to escape. You'd be hit before you knew it.
I told the woman how almost as soon as the bomb hits, the mushroom cloud expands. This, apparently, was the effective range of the nuclear bomb. But I told the woman how the cloud is miles and miles wide, and how it expands to that width almost instantaneously.