In the dream I had last night, I was afraid for my life, but more so for my children's lives. I knew it couldn't possibly be real, that it couldn't be actually happening, but the fear was there nonetheless. I think the beginning of it was set the way it was specifically to let me know that it was just a dream...
It started out at my dad's old house in Orlando. The same house I grew up in, that my sisters are still living in right now. I felt like I had been there for a while, hours at least, hanging out on the front porch with some friends. I knew it wasn't real because--for starters--three of my friends were characters from the TV show "Lost." Boone, Charlie, and Claire. You don't have to know who they are on the show, I'm just tossing out their names and a small bit about them, because I think they represent actual people. I think the two men represent traits in one person, and I think Claire represents a trait that I have. Boone and Charlie happen to be two of my favorite male characters right now. Boone was very protective of his stepsister and cared deeply for her, but lost his life in the first season of the show while bravely trying to reach out for help as the small wrecked plane he stood in dove nose-first over a cliff, breaking his body beyond repair. Charlie is a recovering heroin addict who found himself with his addiction after trying--and sadly, failing--to keep himself and his brother on the right track while becoming rock stars. He found a new meaning to his life when he got to know Claire, who was pregnant, and when she had her baby he kicked the heroin and became a wonderful father-figure to the child. Right at this moment though (I'm halfway through season 2), Charlie and Claire are having some problems and aren't speaking. But I think they will be alright. They just seem to be made for each other. Claire, on the other hand, is not one of my favorite characters. I don't hate her, though. My thoughts toward her are constantly changing. Some days I like her, other days I don't. Much the same way I feel about myself.
So we're on the porch, and the house starts to tremble. The ground begins to shake. I have never experienced an earthquake, but it's unnerving to have the very ground you walk on attempt to throw you off of the planet. We hang on to the columns supporting the small section of roof that covers the porch, and after a few short minutes (or was it hours?) the ground steadies itself again, and we begin to recover from the shock of having been through an earthquake. Until the gravity disappears.
It was like a failing magnet. The force holding us to the Earth was weakening, and we could all feel our feet rising off the ground. I laid against the concrete, wrapped my arms around a column, and began inching myself towards the front door. Down the street you could see people holding on for their lives, but there were greater numbers of unfortunate people who weren't able to hold on long enough, rising into the sky until they were out of view. Despite our best efforts to hold on to each other, Boone and Charlie lifted off into the sky, and as they got further and further away, all we could do was stare into their eyes, and feel the image of sadness and loss burning into our memories.
It was hard to continue wanting to hold on when Boone and Charlie were gone. But we fought to stay grounded anyways. Claire was slowing slipping away, and we knew that she was going to need our help before she decided to just let go. I reached out for her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her underneath the porch. It seemed as if every inch I got closer to the front door of the house, the gravity was a bit stronger. After a hard struggle, we made it inside the doorway, and all returned to normal. It was just the act of getting inside that we had to fight for, it seems.
Claire disappeared off into the house, and I walked into the kitchen. There was a bed in here, and two men sleeping in it (they looked so much like Boone and Charlie...). They were fast asleep though, and I didn't want to wake them up. They seemed extremely tired, I thought they could use the rest. They deserved the rest. Just then I heard a loud crash, followed by what seemed to be an explosion. It came from the backyard. I walked to the french doors leading to the backyard, and as I opened them, the entire beginning of the dream slipped out of my mind and I stepped into this new traumatic dream experience.
There was an airport. A small one, by the looks of it, but a military one for sure. Lots of small planes the size of cars, and many machines off to the edges shooting rockets into the sky. The rockets took off into the distance, presumably to destroy an unseen enemy. But the planes... it was like every time a plane took off, it was only a matter of minutes before it came back down, falling out of the sky and often falling parallel to the ground, shooting past the backyard and exploding just a few houses down. The first thing I thought of was my children. Both of my boys were somewhere in the house, but I didn't know where, and I was screaming for them and searching for them. Then I saw them... and almost fainted.
In the backyard, on the left side, was a bunker. It was a very large metal/concrete container buried into the ground, with a large opening on top to climb inside. There were people already there... all four of my sisters, a few women with children I didn't recognize, and... both of my boys. The kids were poking their heads out of the opening, looking up at the planes and pointing or shouting. A few of the women were positioned on the sides of the opening, but still partway beneath the ground so that if a plane were to head their direction, they could duck down and avoid being decapitated. I was terrified that something would happen to my boys, terrified that they would lose their mother if I died before I reached them, and for half a second I considered trusting that they were safe there with the other children, and that I should stay where I was and wait out this warzone. But that thought was short-lived. I knew I needed my children and I knew they needed me. I waited for a plane to pass by, then I rushed out across the yard, dodging stray bits of shrapnel, till I finally made it to the bunker. I jumped down inside, pulling my kids further inside and hugging them tightly. I felt like we would be safe there, and I felt that my kids were much more safe with me there beside them, even though there was nothing I could really do if a plane crashed into us.
I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again my kids were gone. I searched the bunker (it was small so it didnt take long) and I started screaming when I didnt see them. I looked out the opening and began frantically scanning the yard for any sign of my children. One of the women told me to calm down, that my children were fine, and pointed over to the house. Sure enough, I could see in through a window and see that my kids were on the back porch playing with a few other kids. I ran over to the house as fast as I could, thankful that I reached the door alive, and went in to be with my kids. I was terrified that a plane was going to crash into the house and take them from me, but people kept telling me to calm down. I turned around again, and my kids were back at the bunker. I didn't even think about it, I just ran out there and hid behind it.
I hadn't noticed before, but on the back side of the bunker, there was a steep hill, and a shallow waterway. It was just deep enough for a small canoe-like boat to float down it, and a few of the kids were laughing and asking to go to the park. A man in the boat was taking them back and forth, and there was someone at the park watching them. I didn't want my kids to go, and instead had them sit in the bunker with me. The war was almost over, and we could go to the park then. I merely blinked, and again my children were gone. Someone told me they went to the park, and with tears streaming down my face I stepped to the edge of the water and waited for the boat as it pulled up to the bunker, telling the man to take me to the park to my kids. He looked at me like I was crazy, worrying over nothing, but took me anyways. As the boat began to leave, I looked out over the yard again. There, against the back fence, was the bed with the two sleeping men. They were still sound asleep, even after all the noise and explosions and debris. Still sleeping. I wanted to wake them now, and pull them into the bunker to safety... but I had to protect my kids. And somehow I knew that they would be safe as long as they stayed asleep.
Then I woke up. I didn't make it to the park. The first thing I did this morning was check on the kids, and they were just fine. It was still scary though. Even knowing it was a dream, waking up and knowing that there was no way I could have ever thought it was real, it was scary.
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