Had my first futuristic dream last night. It seemed so real, vivid. Most striking is how dismal and gray everything looked. No color. No trees. No plants -- anywhere. Concrete all around. A canopy of low-hanging clouds block out the sun. The air was cool, damp, dank.
Toxins have accumulated in the environment -- or so my dream goes -- to the point they've affected 10-15% of the population. Those most sensitive among us have reacted violently.
Especially affected are creative types » artists, musicians, poets .. what Ezra Pound calls the antennae of the race
. [Tho not me.]
I'm standing in a parking lot that's surrounded on three sides by the industrial walls of a medical facility, some 3 or 4 stories tall. It seems to be a cross between a hospital and a high-security Psych ward. Gray, dreary skies hang low overhead.
A whoosh of steam startles me. A large, disc-shaped metal plate opens in the middle of the parking lot. Others run away, scattering in all directions. Up from a treatment facility located deep underground rises a grotesque body strapped to a gurney. It hardly looks human, but is.
When the steam clears, two attendants, dressed in white lab coats, wheel the gurney into the building. They take the heavily-sedated patient up to one of the rooms.
No single toxin is responsible for these adverse reactions, but rather an aggregate that has accumulated in the environment over many years. [ How I know this I don't know. You know how dreams are. ]
I need to retrieve something from the room where this new patient was taken. Drat! I should've fetched it earlier,
I think.
••• today's entry continues here below •••
Everybody is afraid of these people because they look scary and can become violent. Their torment endows them with superhuman strength. When I arrive at the room however, I feel sympathy for this fellow. Sensing I can help, I consider what effect it might have to read aloud some poetry.
I first need to retrieve a notebook lying on the nightstand beside his bed. He appears asleep, but the powerful drugs will soon wear off. I study the iron shackles & heavy chains that secure his wrists. Then I calculate his reach should he wake or be faking sleep.
Cautiously I reach for the notebook. He twitches. That's when I woke.
I should note I've been sleeping hard the last week. Hibernating, you might call it. Never had a dream like this before, where I knew it was (supposed to be) the future. Nothing even close, really. Trippy.
It bugs me that I can't figure out why I would have such a strange dream. I mean, I don't read about stuff like this. Nor do I have any interest in doing so. Those images have stuck with me all day. Hauntingly vivid.
Interesting how my futuristic dream contained weather that was dank & dreary .. not warm, considering the talk we've been hearing about global warming.
Sipping a cup of Detox tea right now. Will take a nature-walk tomorrow, at the Back Bay, where I'll stop to read a little poetry. Maybe even hug a tree (.. when nobody's looking). Probably need to eat more fruit.
I used to know a girl who claimed she could steer her dreams. I never heard of such a thing, but later discovered it's called lucid dreaming. Tho I've never been able to do that myself. She said she just used her imagination while falling asleep to picture whatever it was that she wanted to dream about. (I think she lives in Vegas now.)
