There’s so much to unpack from last night’s dream, not least of which is a performance troupe of transgender androids attempting to create emotional closure of childhood wounds, but what sticks out even more than that is the sight of war beginning.
We — me, Kate and a couple of friends whose identities are lost to dream logic — were celebrating something and looking out the window expecting fireworks, but it quickly became clear that we were seeing something else. There were explosions in the sky, sure, but they were explosions, and quickly followed by the sight of hundreds of parachutes opening, men falling to earth with weapons in hand.
There was an inevitability about it, knowing we couldn’t stop them from falling, that they’d come to try and kill us, that was unlike anything else in the world. It was chilling, and hopeless. Oddly enough, that was when I knew I was dreaming.