Monday, June 13, 2005
Anselmo's duty
Fall semester I had a collection of fairly dark dreams, which I chronicled in this blog:
Blogging a nightmare
Crossing the void
Yet another post-apocalyptic dream
After the nightmare ends
When there is no more room left in hell
They were later suppressed by a volley of frappuchinos (it appears that caffeine reduces my brain's dream output). However, as my intake has been greatly reduced, I'm starting to dream more often. I was planning to sit on these for a while, but they are beginning to pile up, so here we go. I had this disturbing one last week.
We were on a road trip again. The mountain green of the southern states always surrounds the highways as they twist and turn. I was racing along with a car full of friends, attempting to make it to our destination before sundown. It was a slightly cloudy day, but as we rounded a bend, I saw that the bridge up ahead was bathed in sunlight, falling out of crack in the cloud cover.
Or, at least, I thought I saw the bridge. To my horror, as we got closer, we realized that the bridge had been destroyed. The loud music of the car stereo was a whisper as all five of our young voices echoed in a collective scream as the car tumbled off the broken bridge and into the chasm below.
When the five of us woke, it was sunset, and we were parked outside of a small cabin resort area. It seemed that many people were stranded there due to the destruction of the bridge, and gossip concerning the manner of its destruction floated through the air. Apparently it had been some sort of attack.
As the last bit of sunlight vanished we crammed into the lobby of the resort, where many were already huddled around a television, listening to a government report on the attacks. According to the report, this wasn't the work of terrorists; it was not the work of any human hand.
Suddenly the wall was ripped away by something gigantic yet hidden. Debris and people were scattered, and soon the chorus of screams erupted yet again. There were snarls... and blood was everywhere. I stumbled out into the woods that surrounded the resort, following the masses of people that ran, as we listened to the sounds of the building being ripped to shreds. What had destroyed the bridge now was exacting its wrath on the resort, and out in the forest we didn't stand a chance against it.
Blogging a nightmare
Crossing the void
Yet another post-apocalyptic dream
After the nightmare ends
When there is no more room left in hell
They were later suppressed by a volley of frappuchinos (it appears that caffeine reduces my brain's dream output). However, as my intake has been greatly reduced, I'm starting to dream more often. I was planning to sit on these for a while, but they are beginning to pile up, so here we go. I had this disturbing one last week.
We were on a road trip again. The mountain green of the southern states always surrounds the highways as they twist and turn. I was racing along with a car full of friends, attempting to make it to our destination before sundown. It was a slightly cloudy day, but as we rounded a bend, I saw that the bridge up ahead was bathed in sunlight, falling out of crack in the cloud cover.
Or, at least, I thought I saw the bridge. To my horror, as we got closer, we realized that the bridge had been destroyed. The loud music of the car stereo was a whisper as all five of our young voices echoed in a collective scream as the car tumbled off the broken bridge and into the chasm below.
When the five of us woke, it was sunset, and we were parked outside of a small cabin resort area. It seemed that many people were stranded there due to the destruction of the bridge, and gossip concerning the manner of its destruction floated through the air. Apparently it had been some sort of attack.
As the last bit of sunlight vanished we crammed into the lobby of the resort, where many were already huddled around a television, listening to a government report on the attacks. According to the report, this wasn't the work of terrorists; it was not the work of any human hand.
Suddenly the wall was ripped away by something gigantic yet hidden. Debris and people were scattered, and soon the chorus of screams erupted yet again. There were snarls... and blood was everywhere. I stumbled out into the woods that surrounded the resort, following the masses of people that ran, as we listened to the sounds of the building being ripped to shreds. What had destroyed the bridge now was exacting its wrath on the resort, and out in the forest we didn't stand a chance against it.
