 | Alicia 'Xellandria' Kilpatrick ( xella) wrote,
@ 2003-11-25 03:10:00 |
| Current mood: | drained |
| Current music: | Acoustic Alchemy - Mr. Chow (The Very Best of Acoustic Alchemy) |
For the first time in months, I've gotten a "good" night's sleep, and for the first time in months, I'm actually dreaming again.
For some reason (in the dream), I couldn't sleep. It was... two or three in the morning by the end of it (which fits pretty well with what's going on right now, come of it, as it's 2:44 while I'm writing), so I would imagine it would be one or two at the beginning. I don't imagine it was very long, but it was... tiring, I guess is the word to use.
Anyway, I couldn't sleep, so I was out on the porch/deck. So were my parents, but I was essentially buck naked. I had a flimsy little white robe thing on, but beyond that, nothing. Let me also explain that we were on a ship that felt like home, and that was tethered to a pier in this circular bay thing, with similar boats about. We were looking at the stars in San Jose (which is where we were when we were calling this home, apparently), when a couple shooting stars that were brighter and more orange than usual went by. I don't think we thought much of it, but then there was another one, which was considerably closer and which we could make out to be either a person or an aircraft with a red-and-white striped parachute deployed (I know we pinned it down to which one it was, but I can't remember now). In any case, we watched it fall/hurtle towards this large building on the San Jose horizon, across our little pond with our fifty or so other residents, and into the building. There was a small explosion (the building was far enough away that we didn't hear it, but we could see it perfectly. Huh.), and we rationalized it away.
There's something here with the Columbia-Tristar lady standing on the other side of the lake, my robe-thing blowing away, and her gently admonishing me that she had seen nipples before (to which I retorted "not MINE!"). I went back into the house then, dozed for a couple minutes, before I couldn't sleep again. Went back outside, and watched... probably fifty to seventy five fire-y comets fall, hitting place after place in San Jose -- including a little bit of our little pond. For some reason, the one little pond-explosion caused quite a bit of fire to spread around the entirety of the pond. Don't ask me how that worked. We saw the building that had originally been hit by the parachuting-whatever collapse, like the buildings that have the explosions rigged into them to fall straight down when they collapse, or (someone -- myself included -- is going to kill me here) like I (and thousands of other people) saw when the WTC buildings collapsed. For some reason, I still equated that with them doing late-night construction work -- and really, one might have thought it WAS early morning, the horizon was now so bright -- until I noticed that part of our pond-thing was on fire, too. "I guess now the war has really started," I said all calmly (the war = the one that's always being toted as "bound to happen if Saddam isn't taken out of Iraq", the one on "American Soil"), because I figured that terrorists don't use missiles (which I decided that the flying things were), and then we all got into the house (which was now the Explorer. It made sense at the time. Also, I got in on the driver's side, and ended up on my usual side, the passenger's. Hm...) and unlashed from our pier (which was one of the maybe... five of the fifty total... that wasn't burning yet). Somehow, all the boat/cars had unlashed and either boated/drove away or sunk by the time we started driving/boating around, so most of the piers -- on fire or not -- were free. We were driving around in a slow circle, and I was aiming to get dressed (if we were forced to get out of the car, I was NOT going to do so in a flimsy robe-thing XP) when we drove by these two people who looked REALLY familiar. A man and a woman, about forty or fifty, but in any case... I put my window down and asked them if they were okay, but we had already driven past (we drove really close o_o) and I don't think they heard me, so I put my window up again (smoke and all). We drove up this ramp, out of the pond, and started in on these winding roads on the hills above San Jose (I really don't think it was San Jose, by the way, but that's the city I'm using because it sort of looks like it), and we could see the total havoc and mayhem that the actual city was going through, and we made some comment on that, but I can't remember what that was.
It was now sufficiently dark to be 2-3 in the morning, because it was all dark blue and stuff, and the lights were on, and we were driving. I don't know where to, but we were just going. And my first thought, once I was dressed and out of danger, was "oh my god... where are the cats?" I didn't see them, but I imagined they must be in the back, because they always sleep in the car(?) and would know how to get out of danger, right? And then my second thought was "oh my god... I hope Yuliya's alright!"
So as we're driving on these hills, I take my cellphone (yay for cellphones I will probably NEVER have! =D;;) and try dialing Yuliya's number -- first her home phone because if her parents are still in the house (they lived in our pond too, apparently), they need to get out, right? And my dad tells me not to do that, but I'm going to anyway. Except I can't get the number right. I dunno, but I type the buttons and I'm always missing a number or overshooting a number or something. I try her cell number, same thing. I can't type it right, so I give up and figure that hey, Lucky would have woken them up and gotten them out, right? Always hearing about firedogs and stuff.
Then my third thought, before I actually woke up, was "what's in the house that's absolutely vital to me?" And the only things I came up with that I couldn't replace were my sketchbooks. Everything else could be replaced, somehow. Even all my Saiyuki stuff could be rebought.
Then I woke up with the dread of losing my sketchbooks ^^;; That was sad. But at least it was sleep.
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