I just have crazy dreams, okay?

Remember how I like to post crazy dreams I’ve had on my blog? And remember how my psyche is inexplicably morbid? Well, the dream I had last night is too good to pass up. I just have to share it.  

I dreamed that the people in my neighborhood had just survived a nuclear holocaust, but all of our houses were destroyed. There was rubble everywhere, and my family was living in what used to be our kitchen, because we still had some food.

There were also thieves roaming the streets, trying to steal our food. I think I beat some people up. Because no way were they stealing food from my family. Not with me around. No, sir.

The thieves went away, and everyone in the neighborhood was starting to figure out what to do next. We were picking up the pieces, so to speak, and life was starting to look good again. The sun was shining, the grass was green, children were laughing, we were all talking, and feeling like we’d be able to move on and have normal lives. We were just really bonding. It was a like a post-apocalyptic neighborhood barbeque. Except for the part that we were all in rags and we were roasting hot dogs over piles of embers.  

Then a small child pointed up to the sky at a helicopter. At first we were like, “Oh look! A helicopter!” But then the helicopter plummeted to the earth, and we all knew we were going to die. There was an explosion, and we all started running away from the fire as fast as we could. But the explosion kept rolling toward us.

It was like this:

{picture from National Geographic}

Or this:  

{picture courtesy mfran}

I was outpacing my family, and there was—I kid you not—epic, sad, soul-stirring music going on in my dream like we were in a movie. Kind of like that music in “Return of the King” where Sam is carrying Frodo up Mount Doom. “I can’t carry it for you! But I can carry you!” So tender. 

Except the music was not as triumphant. Because we were all going to die. And there was no one to carry us up the mountain. And no eagles either, for that matter.

I kept looking back to see where my family was. My mom was just behind me, but I couldn’t see anyone else.

Then, my mom looked up at me, raised her hand in farewell, and said, “I love you.” I knew she was about to die, and that I was going to die next, because it went all dark.

. . . and then the credits started rolling.

I’m dead serious. There were movie credits in my dream.

Which makes my dream not as sad as it could otherwise be. I mean, it was only a movie, right? A movie within a dream? (ooh . . . it’s like Inception.)

And we all got to die together. Kind of like the Pevensie family in The Last Battle. (Except I don’t know if my sister Sarah was in my dream. Sarah, you could be Susan. Sorry. I still love you. And I’d carry you up Mount Doom if you had to destroy the One Ring. Dead serious. My love is that deep.)