Dreams: By Tag: Bomb

Thursday, April 22, 2010: The Bomb

He climbed a street to the top of a hill. Looking down, he could see a smoking light blue crater, the remains of a large part of the city.

He knew another bomb was coming. He climbed into the driver's seat of a white van. Others climbed into the van. He called his daughter on his cell phone. She sounded distressed. He told her what was happening, to take cover, and to not panic.

After hanging up, he found himself inside a rectangular bunker with white walls. Through thick windows, he watched the blast-wave of the next bomb approach.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008: Missiles, Ladders

I had a dream that missiles were flying, one by one, across a dark sky. The first missile fell on a distant target, the second a closer target, the third a closer target. I took cover, prone on gravel, between a concrete barricade and two cars, both shiny classic vehicles, one blue and the other orange.

In the next dream, I was with my wife, one of her old roommates, possibly others. We were in vast, dark, concrete building full of black ladders and conveyor belts. I had a stack of red books with me that I carried up a ladder. Somebody mentioned a lever (pronouncing it leh-vur); I jokingly corrected them and pronounced it lee-vur.

A common element in both dreams was the knowledge that I could travel between worlds, and that the first dream was one world and the second dream was another world.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007: Stone Form, Bombed

We were in cramped barracks, fending off the brutal attacks of a martial artist made out of stone. A boulder was launched at him, but he deflected it. He raised his fist to crush me. I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes again, and his fist was still over me. “Do it quickly”, I told him, and closed my eyes again, as he brought his fist down.

We were running down a street as planes dropped bombs around us. At a fork in the road, a bomb fell close to us. Everything went dark and quiet, and I was aware only of my thoughts.

Monday, October 30, 2006: Mail Bomb, Playing Bass Guitar

While working in a warehouse, I noticed an unusual package. I asked my co-workers about it, but they didn’t recognize it. Carefully, I unsealed and opened the cardboard box. Inside was a sealed gray plastic bag. Written on the bag was the word “DIE!” And the bag was ticking! I immediately threw the bag into a green metal trash dumpster, and ducked. There was a small explosion, and the sound of metal against metal. We looked in the dumpster and saw that the bomb had been full of metal ball bearings and other shrapnel.

In another dream, my wife and I were browsing around a music store. I saw a light blue six-string bass guitar. I picked it up and played four bar blues on it. The store manager came over and started chatting with me about the bass. He also mentioned that the store offered bass lessons.

Saturday, September 23, 2006: Nuclear

I was in a house that I felt was my home, but looked different than my current house. I went down into the basement. It was finished in honey-colored wood and the lighting was pleasant. I was looking for my daughter; apparently, her room was in the basement. But she was not there. I opened a door and discovered a new room. In the room was a dark-haired young woman. She was sitting on a chair or the edge of a bed. I sat down on the floor in front of her. As she spoke, rising around and above her was a brilliant orange mushroom cloud. It was as if I could see it through the house.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005: My Dog, War

I was in a strange house. It had a long porch running around the entire house, and it was painted gray. My sister-in-law was there, telling me that she saw Pippin, and to come quickly. I asked if he was hurt. She said she didn't know; he just kept licking his butt. When I got to Pippin, he wasn't hurt; he was just doing what dogs do naturally. I asked him if he needed to go out, and he perked up. He was fine.

Then I was standing in an intersection atop a hill. Down the hill, I could see brown mushroom clouds. I wondered if it was nuclear war. I learned that they were conventional bombs, when I saw strange ships dropping more bombs, whose explosions mushroomed into dirty clouds of debris. The explosions got closer and closer.

I saw a friend of mine, Molly. She was worried about the explosions. I was, too. I noticed that if the bombs did not detonate on impact, they would bounce back into the air, skipping around until they did explode. At least once, we narrowly avoided an explosion because one bounced over us instead of blowing up on impact.

Behind the bombers were these squat cylidrical rotating ground machines that were hunting down survivors. It look like a large gray metal cog, lying flat, and spinning very rapidly.

I asked Molly if she thought we would be safer if we split up? She said she didn't want to be alone. So we began searching for shelter frantically. We came across a building that had the appearance of both a church and a dark pink three decker. Night was approaching. We moved around back, climbed the stairs. There were no open doors, but at least we were on an mostly enclosed porch.

Suddenly, one of the machines extended eyestalks up to the porch window. We hid behind some long window blinds that were nearby. I told Molly not to move. The eyes watched us for sometime, until we fell asleep.

We awoke to a police officer and two elderly tennants asking us what we were doing here? We said that we were hiding from the machines. They said that they should turn us over to the machines, so we quickly departed.