Good morning, everybody.
I was in a house with my family. It was daytime, and the house was filled with yellowish natural light. I may have been in the kitchen. All the surfaces in the room were white, tinged yellow with the sunlight.
I may have heard, or I may have been thinking about having heard, some announcement on the radio that there was going to be a nuclear war. Something about the announcement made it seem like nuclear war was inevitable, and that it was going to happen soon, but that it wasn't going to happen now, and it wasn't going to happen without plenty of warning.
But now my oldest nephew ran into the kitchen. He said, "The nuclear war is beginning! They just made the announcement! The missiles are on their way!" My nephew ran through the kitchen and down a stairwell that led to the basement. My mom was down in the basement,and my nephew was going to give my mom the warning, too.
I thought for a moment. How could we escape the blast of a nuclear bomb? Perhaps just staying in the basement would be a good idea. Maybe the basement was deep enough to shield us. But I didn't feel like that was right at all.
After some more reflection, I decided that if the bomb were to hit, we'd all just be screwed. The best thing wasn't to hide. It was just not to act afraid when the final moments came.
But I kept thinking that maybe my nephew was kidding. Maybe he just wanted to play a game on us and panic us. Or maybe he'd heard the news wrong, or heard a bad piece of news.
I looked out the back window. I looked way down, as if I were in a ten-story building, to a valley in the mountains. The valley was like the backyard for this house. But I could feel now that the house was all by itself.
Down in the valley was a flying saucer. It was silvery, and it looked a bit like computer animation. I knew that my nephew had run down into the flying saucer. He was going to fly it, apparently. This showed me he'd been serious about the nuclear missile attack. He was going to fly away and warn everybody he could about our impending doom.
The saucer floated up into the air, wobbling back and forth a little as it rose. It then rather quickly flew off toward the horizon of the yellow sky. But I suddenly realized that I was controlling the flight of the saucer, either with my thoughts or with a machine, as if I were watching a movie.
I kept on rewinding and playing the flight of the saucer, watching it fly away, then pulling it back. I think I even saw glitchy, little lines in my field of view, as if I were watching a VCR tape and had it on pause. I'd convinced myself through this manipulation that all the panic I'd experienced up to this point was just a movie, nothing more.
I was going to see a friend give a speech. My friend's speech was for her doctorate. I don't know whether the speech was so she could get her doctorate, or so she could get into a class that would get her her doctorate.
The room my friend was to give a speech in was about the size of a small classroom. It was really nice, with tall, narrow windows letting in plenty of yellowy sunlight. The room was packed with professional and academic looking people.
Sometimes my friend stood near me, and sometimes I saw her standing and talking to some people. She looked like Julie Potratz, the star of a couple of films by Laurel Nakadate.
An older, Asian woman may have been in charge of everything going on here. Apparently there were going to be a number of speeches given. It was hard for me to tell whether my friend would actually be giving a speech. It seemed like a lot of people were going to give speeches about her work. And one person was even going to give a speech that had been written by my friend. But I couldn't tell whether my friend was going to give a speech herself.
The first speech had begun. My friend and I were standing at our chairs in one of the rows near the front of the audience. But everybody else was standing, and they all seemed so much bigger than we. It was hard to see the podium. I felt crowded in, hidden from everything.
My friend stood to my left. She seemed to be annoyed at me for some reason. To my right stood an Asian woman. She said to my friend, "I know you wished you could stay here. Too bad you have to go in order to catch your flight. You won't have time enough to give your speech after all, it seems."
Some time had passed, and the event had possibly ended. Everybody was now clearing out of the room. I was either myself or my friend. A young man came into the room and asked me if I knew somebody from my past named MA. I said I did. The young man said that that man was part of a group that had been organized to stalk me. The young man was coming clean with the info. He'd been a part of the whole thing. But now he felt I should stop it, if I could.
Either the man had told me or I had just known that MA, or somebody associated with MA, was out in the hallway. I walked outside, into a lobby-like hallway. Right in the hallway was a small, stage-like platform that was about knee-high.
MA sat on the platform, leaning against a column, with his legs stretched out along the platform. He was totally relaxed and complacent. I confronted him and asked him why he'd been stalking me. He just didn't answer.
I got up on the stage and knelt over MA. I began punching him. But he didn't seem to care. I told him that if he wasn't going to stop stalking me, I was going to destroy him physically, right now.
I was still either myself or my female friend. But now MA also looked a lot like my female friend. But I had bashed her face in. She was totally mutilated. I said something to her like, "See? This is what I can do to you if you don't stop!"
By this time I was no longer mad. It was more like I was illustrating something to MA. I pulled some photos out and showed them to her. They were black and white photos of some blonde movie star with her face completely disfigured. In one case, one of her cheeks was missing, exposing her gums -- most of her teeth were gone -- to the camera.
MA stood up and walked away. I was calling after him, talking to him about the photos. Now that I thought about the photos a little, I hoped that I hadn't actually done anything to MA. I hadn't really had proof that MA had been stalking me. Even if I'd had proof, should I really have done something like that to him?
Something about a fire somewhere. The fire had something to do with the name "le.i. revolution" or "le.i. cherry." A woman had given the news out about the fire. She'd been wearing a lot of mascara. Now her eyes had huge, black circles around them. But it wasn't like she'd been crying. It was more like she'd sustained some injury, and been through some kind of flood of water, that had caused her eyes to act in this way.
I was out on the edge of a lake at night. A fire truck that actually looked like a 1950s-style tow truck, was positioned above the water somehow.
The woman was on the roof of the truck, laying on it, stomach down, and clutching to it. Behind her, in the bed of the truck, were all kinds of old, rusty, metal objects. The woman was the same woman from the previous dream: young, blonde, pale, and kind of punky looiking. Her mascara wasn't running all over the place now, though.
The woman had told some man up above her that the "le.i. cherry" or "le.i. revolution" fire had occurred. It had affected the truck in some way. So now the truck was too damaged to use anymore. In fact, it may even have been possible that the truck itself was going to catch fire at any minute.
So the woman was having the man lower the truck down into the lake. The truck was attached by a thick, kind of rusty chain to some huge crane, which was dropping it into the water. The woman clung to the truck's roof, looking back up to the man and saying goodbye to him. The man was kind of fat and old, with a mustache and stubble. But it was plain the woman loved the man and was telling him goodbye.
I yelled to the woman, "Why do you need to die? Why do you even need to drop the truck into the lake? The truck might still work? Why don't you work on the truck and see if you can fix it, instead of just giving up on it?"
The woman said, "No, no. We don't do that. When a ship's going down, a captain goes down with his ship."
I could now see that both the woman and the man were holding to the top of the truck as it was being lowered into the lake. They were both planning to drown themselves with their fire truck. The fact that both the man and the woman were going to kill themselves made me feel less upset about the whole situation.