I awoke this morning, in the dark hours, terrified.
I’d had a dream. And it was not a pleasant one.
It began pleasantly enough.
I was in the office. I had the picture of Percy on my desk. My Professor Henry Jones vinyl statue. Even Sophia Myles as a miniature toy. It was my desk.
The view out the office window was slightly different. I seemed to be higher than the sixth floor. And I had a clear view to a city in the distance.
The sun was rising. It was a lovely sunrise. Pink sky, poofy clouds. It’s one of those sunrises you’ll remember forever.
Some of the other writers wanted to go downstairs and get food. They do this en masse every morning. Sometimes they’ll do it in the afternoon.
I was entranced with the view of the city in the distance.
Only one of the other writers came back from downstairs.
And that’s when everything changed.
Looking at the city, I noticed a flash.
The sky, which had been a light blue, turned an angry red.
And then the rising of a mushroom cloud.
I remember screaming in the dream.
I remember jumping out of my office chair to stand and stare out the window.
I remember watching the mushroom cloud grow and the shock wave of the nuclear blast roll across the ground from the city’s core, through the residential areas in between.
I remember seeing buildings explode.
I remember the shock wave reaching my office.
I remember my window exploding and glass shards flying as I fell to the ground.
I remember the time on the digital clock, which is odd, because I don’t have a digital clock at the office. But it was there, and the numbers were large and they were green.
The clock read 4:14.
At that point, I woke up. My heart was pounding.
I’d just seen a city nuked.
I know, it was just a dream. And yet, it felt real.
I didn’t fall asleep again for about two hours. I couldn’t get the dream out of my mind.
What does it mean?