I died twice in my dreams tonight. In the first dream, I was hanging around Al’s place and his dog, Riley, was having serious problems. For one thing, whenever he opened his mouth he had a gnarled, rotting mass of teeth that were severely loose. For some reason he kept trying to bite me, and the teeth would disconnect from his jaw and blood would gush everywhere. I kept thinking I ought to do something about this, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly to do. Every time he would try to bite me, Al would say something like, “Don’t worry, eventually he’ll realize he hasn’t got any teeth.”
Then, for some reason, I was trapped in a room with Al and Erin. Flood waters were rising to the point of almost coming in the windows. Erin said, “We’re going to die, you realize this,” and just then water started pouring into the room. I remember thinking, “It’s been a good life, even if it was short.” I started wishing desperately that this whole thing was a dream, and then I woke up.
In the second dream, I was back at my family’s home and we started getting reports on the news of riots in major cities, break-ins, vandalism, etc. I remember saying to my Aunt, “This is how it starts: scattered reports of rioting, indicators of major food and water shortages that are being under-reported in order to prevent nationwide panic. Then everything collapses.” Over the next few days things unfolded pretty much exactly as I expected, with mass rioting, civil disobedience and roving gangs particularly in the larger cities.
Then one day, I heard what sounded like a jet engine outside and went to a window. “It’s landing far too quickly to be a legitimate government plane,” I said (even I don’t know what that means). An older guy with salt-and-pepper hair got out of the plane and started scanning the houses with binoculars. “Don’t let him see us,” I told the family. “Stay away from the windows.” I went back into my room and started desperately trying to get online to let someone know via mail or IM that the end may be near, but for some reason I kept having difficulty logging in anywhere. I heard the man walking around in our house and eventually he stopped at my door.
“He must have heard me typing,” I thought.
“Come on and open up,” the man said. “It’s a shame if you don’t trust your Uncle Peter.” (I have no Uncle named Peter.)
I laid down on the bed just as he kicked the door open. He was pointing a gun at me. A moment which seemed like forever, and then he fired, and the gunshot was so distinct and realistic. I quickly blacked out.
And then, regained consciousness, except this time outside of the dream.