Since it was windy outside as I slept this morning, which made a rumbling sound on the bedroom windows, I dreamed that there was a nuclear war.
I was preparing to go to an Ada High School football state championship game. I drove past the practice field to verify the game time, then started to drive north on Broadway toward home.
At this point in the dream there was a complex subtext that didn’t respect the timeline (it seemed to occur after the main events of the dream) about another photographer going to the game with me. He needed a camera with a decent lens, which I was unable to supply. At one point we were searching a van, presumably mine, for a 300mm, but what we found was mostly just tripod legs.
Then in the dream I was back on Broadway, driving home. I noticed a smoke plume far to the north that became a mushroom cloud, but it still looked like some kind of conventional explosion. I continued to drive and tried to call my wife Abby at her office.
I had the scanner in my car on, but there was no note of this event.
A flash occurred closer, followed by another mushroom cloud that was classically nuclear. I said out loud, “A nuclear war? Really?”
The blast wave approached, so I got out of my car (the Chevy Cavalier I had in 1990), and laid in the ditch by the side of the road. When it passed, I looked around for my car, which had been blown back into a yard about a block back. I walked back to get it, and was amazed that it would start. I tried again to call Abby, and while I was surprised to see that EMP hadn’t disabled my phone, for a moment I couldn’t remember the number for her desk. As I tried to think of it, there was a blinding flash from the Ada airport.
I got out of my car and covered by face with my hands, which were now wearing leather gloves. I realized I would die. I said out loud, “Goodbye Abby. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
(Now that I write this dream down, it all seems pretty transparent and obvious.)