What Happens Next: A Gallimaufry

melancholic romantic comic cynic. bi & genderqueer. fantasy writer. sysrae on ao3.

So, continuing my recent run of apocalypse nightmares, last night’s dream featured:

- drone assassination

- medical torture of a witness to drone assassination

- running from rapists

- a country on fire

- trains exploding while I was on them

- trying to escape gun-wielding attackers on horseback, while protecting someone else’s newborn twins, who I was carrying in a rucksack

- famine and fights over water


All these events were kicked off by the creation of a massive cathedral which was designed to self-destruct, not with explosives, but through something my dream-brain called “echoic resonance.” It was built on a hill near the sea, on top of some sort of natural gas reservoir, with a pump inside to draw the gas up into the surrounding earth as well as into the building. The whole thing was built to magnify sound and echoes, and was set off when someone set a self-propelled baton ricocheting between doors. The escalating sound-waves this created combined with the rising gas to make something that was half earthquake, half chemical explosion. Plants were expelled from the ground, which was rendered toxic; whole crops were ruined. 

(Science side of tumblr: If anything like this is actually scientifically possible, I’d be really interested to hear it: in the dream, I kept thinking at a background level about how soldiers need to break up their marching when going over a bridge so it doesn’t collapse, plus a video I saw recently of air being pumped beneath sand to make it act like a liquid.) 


Everyone present at the site’s opening was meant to die - the cathedral was built by a foreign power on another country’s land, ostensibly as a good-will gift, so that their first act of war would be mistaken for a natural disaster. Instead, I escaped and was chased by a drone that eventually caught and killed me at sea, at which point my POV jumped from the dead man’s to that of the woman who rescued me. (I often have complete identity changes in dreams.) The woman heard the drone give an automated readout about the man’s death, which is why she was subsequently tortured - and then the dream went on from there. There was a whole lot more stuff, obviously - there was a thing about communications being down, having to force a journalist on one of the exploding trains to take video of everything burning outside and post the grainy footage online - but I think you get the idea.


This is not the weirdest dream I’ve had lately. It’s one of the more overtly violent ones, but even so, my subconscious seems pretty fucking convinced that I need prepping for apocalypse scenarios these days.
I WONDER WHY THAT COULD BE.  

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