I never dreamt about impending apocalypses before. Hammercock and I, for some reason, were shopping at a Shaw's when we received word that a nuclear missile strike was about to hit Boston at any minute now. Fortunately, the supermarket had a parking lot several stories below the ground. It wasn't as crowded as one expects considering the massive hysteria that should occur. We were huddling by the walls, on the ground, etc. I was listening to every faint sound, especially over the radio. Every noise, every vibration, every change in temperature (it was a very hot day) was noticed thinking that this was it. After a couple of minutes, we were told that the strike was averted.
Then I woke up. It was barely sunrise. I was shocked to find myself in bed. It was too intense.
If lucky, I can dream twice in one night and can remember both. I wasn't in Boston. Actually, given the layout of the buildings, I didn't know where I was. All I know is that I had to go on a speedy boat to a tiny island with a house on it left by Big Jimmy. I remember not being there for months. It was abandoned, but had plenty of ice cream in the fridge. Strawberry. He remembered. What was also weird was my company. It was tmack and klingonlandlady. Talk about contrast. Tmack was canoeing around the house while klingonlandlady was driving the boat.
Immediately after the dreams, I called in sick from work.