The Dream After Tomorrow

In this dream, three apocalyptic events occur and I am at least present for all of them. I can't remember the first now, but the second began when I was innocently browsing in a large, old fashioned library. The foundation begins to shake, books fall off of shelves, the building is beginning to collapse and we are all evacuated to a middle school nearby. But not too nearby. I didn't have time to grab my Alice purse (this dream was very very specific) and just had a wad of bills in my hand. We got to the middle school, and they offered us lock boxes for our stuff. Monk was there and naturally having difficulty using something someone else had previously used. At first I asked him if I could put my bills in with his stuff because that's all I had and I didn't want to pay the 55 cents just to keep some bills. But he looked at me with true sadness in his eyes and I realized he wouldn't like the crumpled appearance of the bills so I said nevermind, and put them in my pocket. He gave me a sincere look of gratitude and relief. Then I counted the bills and it turns out there were two twenties stuck in what I thought was only a five and some ones. Then I magically found my purse. Perhaps I had brought it over but lost it in the chaos. I was just excited to have my bag and various paraphernalia.

Next, I went to a hospital to visit someone (I was completely unharmed from the previous two incidents) but was taken hostage by Frank Sinatra. While everyone else was panicking about the bomb threat, de dragged me upstairs to the suite where Nancy Reagan lived (it was more hotel, and less hospital). We went in and despite Nancy's pleading, locked her in the closet, and set up a time-release bomb. I screamed to her and anyone else that might have wiretapped the former First Lady's room, that I had nothing to do with it, that I was being held hostage and that I loved her. This was more to comfort her last few moments alive and less to express actual feelings. I actually think she's somewhat of a nutcase. So then Frank grabbed me and we ran out of there and escaped in time to watch it blow up from a safe distance. I was really pissed that Frank Sinatra made me a party to his evil machinations. All of these events were planned by some underground American terrorist group who had decided to destroy whatever existing system we had. Frank was not the head, merely a player.

As he didn't have a gun (he did have a grip like a vice) and never really intended to do me harm, eventually I was able to escape and joined my family on a vacation to Orlando, Florida. Nobody really believed my story and this made me quite upset. I began to be afraid that I would be suspected as one of the terrorists because I had been present at all three and that at any minute FBI men would show up and take me away to never be seen again. Which was pretty annoying because my presence at this first calamity was coincidental. I believe that led me to be present at the others, whether by someone else's design or whether I was investigating it for myself as part of the resistance, I have no idea.

I was shocked to wake up. The dream was so vivid that I fully accepted it as reality. It was only when I woke up and realized that Frank Sinatra is dead that it began to sink in. Then I went back to sleep and had another dream.

In which I was subbing for Kate, such as it were (Jon was still there), and helping to take care of the Gosselin kids. (Twins and sextuplets, for the person who reads this blog and has never seen the show, Jon and Kate Plus Eight) It wasn't stressful taking care of the children as much as I felt pressured to follow Kate's rules.