2002-08-13 12:13 p.m.
don't kill Ray!

New dream:

I was on the 365th floor of an immense skyscraper � and I'm not talking tall and skinny like the Empire State Building; I'm talking a palazzo with wide-open stairways (and marble elevators), three hundred and sixty-five stories high � with Ray Bradbury. In the middle of a zombie holocaust, with people being bitten and turning right and left, although it was taking a long time for people to make their way up into the building I was in. We were doing a radio broadcast, a la "War of the Worlds" in reverse, where it wasn't fiction, and we were doing an inspirational, Norman Corwin-style rallying-of-spirit piece, trying to get people to fight to survive in this horrific landscape.

After hours of running back and forth between our broadcast center and other floors (I was scouting to see how bad it was getting and if we were more at risk), I came back to the roof, where we were � SO surreal; it all ran like a very well-crafted widescreen movie � and Superman, for no reason I can discern, started blasting the hell out of our rooftop setup, killing as many people as he could.

Then I woke up.

So. What is my subconscious mind trying to tell me?

For one thing, this is the second NYC zombie dream I've had in the last few months (though there were a lot less zombies in the last one; just deserted streets).

For another, Superman was trying to kill all of us. My thought, in the dream, was that he was trying to kill us rather than have us turn as well, perhaps thinking that having Ray die was better than having Ray the zombie moving around, a mercy kill. Or maybe he was disgusted by our words and motivation, all hope in the world surviving gone. I don't know.

I woke up sweating, jolted, and scared, mostly because of that uncertainty.