A dream

March 22, 2011 at 9:45 am (Uncategorized)

Last night I dreamt that God was going to kill me.

It opened comfortably enough – I was at a hospital chatting to two other people while the doctor took care of us (all at once; he was quite the multitasker). It was a pleasant new-person conversation, and it was nice to have the doctor fussing over us and flattering our minor injuries.

Then the girl went out of the room into the hospital foyer, and the doctor followed her. We heard suspicious noises and the boy and I went to see what was happening. The girl had gone crazy, shot knives from her fingertips, and was killing him. While I dragged the doctor towards the outside door, the boy distracted the girl.

As the doctor and I reached the doorway, I realised that the boy was in the process of transforming into a knife-handed crazy person as well – and they were both heading our way. I abandoned the nice doctor to his horrible fate and flew away.

As I hovered above the hospital, I felt awful for the choice I’d made (despite my lack of practical options for derring-do), and wondered if I could live with myself. At that point, God was flying nearby (no I didn’t see him, but his presence was unmistakeable – somewhat Old Testament-y and scary).

He offered to let me die.

I knew that if I said yes, my life would end immediately. It seemed like a fairly good idea at the time, but I was quite scared and asked if I could say goodbye to CJ first. I also had a feeling CJ had something important to say about my decision.

The sense of God’s immediate presence faded, but I knew I had to hurry to CJ or I’d die before I got there. Also, a lot of other people were starting to fly around me, and they were all extremely dangerous. Some were pure evil already, and others (refugees like me) had the vacant stare that indicated they were beginning to transform.

I flew over the high brick hospital wall and across streets and roads, with more flying refugees and knife-people all around. Fortunately, I was able to fly higher up than most, but I had to keep a careful lookout in all directions.

It transpired that I was in London and CJ was in Canberra. A long and terrifying chase scene ensued.

After flying across the channel to Queensland (yay for subconscious georgraphy – which also gave me a sign in England saying “427km to Australia”) and across long stretches of coastline and desert, I accidentally flew into a tall prison-like school. Several other refugees fluttered frantically against the windows. I wrenched an opaque window from its frame only to stare directly into the balding face of the principal on the other side. I evaded his grasp, but plunged into darkness.

After a moment I realised where I was and reached out one hand. My fingers brushed against CJ’s T-shirt (CJ’s real, physical T-shirt, warm with his body heat), and I knew I was home, and awake, and I didn’t want to die.

How. . . reassuring.

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