I had the weirdest dream last night. Though with how confused my thoughts have been lately, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.
At first, we were at some kind of celebration, sort of a street festival, but we were invited into someone’s house to visit. They had cats, and we had a lovely visit, chatting about all sorts of things.
As we came out of the house we realized firefighters were battling a huge blaze at the end of the street, and we could see smoke and flames from other fires in the area. The person whose house we were at shouted something about the bombing having started, and ran back inside, slamming the door.
We raced for home, and hurried inside, only to find lots of little fires scattered through the house. Only, it wasn’t my house, it was my grandmother’s house. We put out the little fires, but could hear the thuds and explosions around us. I looked out the window and watched as a shiny silver missile thing screamed past, landing a few blocks away. Then I turned around and saw another smaller one floating in through my window, to land gracefully on the floor. It didn’t explode, and I screamed and grabbed the kids and raced out the door to go hide under a tree. From our hiding place we watched as streams of school children were marched past, heading to some undisclosed ‘safer’ location. The house never did blow up, and I was wondering whether I should’ve taken the time to pack up some supplies….
And then I woke up.
How weird is that.