When I was a kid, I had nightmares. I don't mean sometimes. These are frequent occurances, a constant companion. For years, these nightmares would cause the usual irrational terror, but after years of this torment I took control of the dreams. I turned them into adventures... frightening adventures, mind you, including my phobias and the usual psychological detritus. I mean, how calm can it be running through the underbrush trying to escape the T-Rex that is intent on eating you? But I was able to remove most of the terror.
Eventually, they went away. Sometimes I miss my vivid dreams. Sometimes they come back in various forms.
I had consistent dream worlds that I could visit and re-visit. I learned their layout, their rules, their notable features. It was great, for example, to visit the island, even if it meant the long drive (or worse, walk) across the impossible long, narrow, sometimes underwater bridge.
Did I mention that I like neither heights nor large bodies of water?
But this note is not about these dreams. I had one dream exactly once, but it was so vivid, so real, that it stuck forever in my mind.
In it, I was young. Four or five maybe. I don't know my age when I dreamed it.
We are in front of a large grocery store. It is night and the large glass windows spill light out onto the sidewalk. It is bright inside, glaring. Next to the curb is our VW bug. I think it is green. I'm standing outside of it on the sidewalk.
My mother is coming out of the store. She probably has a bag of groceries. It was a store, after all.
She approaches and we are both standing next to the car. She is opening the door.
I look up and see a meteor, huge, bright, moving at supersonic speed, like a freight train barreling through sky, like looking up the barrel of a gun. That is the last thing I see.
And then we are dead. I wake up.