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|Title of the Dream||Horses and men and slipping into a time/space bubble|
|Description of Dream||It is pitch dark outside. I am in my neighborhood where I live in real life. There are bits of light here and there from porches or yard lights but the houses are dark. People are hiding, but not hiding in their houses. They are hiding outside, dashing between homes and garages, hiding in the bushes.
I am in a the side yard of a house about a block from my own. I can hear them coming...somewhere behind me...the sound of horses and the shouts of men. I hurry to the front of the house and curl in a little ball on the concrete sidewalk that is in front of the breezeway that connects the house to the garage. They are so close. I can hear the horses snorting. Their hooves make the ground shake.
The horses and riders burst through the narrow space on either side of the house - a group to my right and one to my left. There are too many to count. I close my eyes and somehow make myself invisible. It is like slipping into a little time/space pocket where I can see them but they cannot see me. The riders are wearing headscarves and flowing robes and carry curved swords. I can hear them shouting, but it is kind of muffled from my time/space bubble and they thunder past me.
After they leave people come out of hiding. Not massive numbers. A man here, a woman there. We gather together, somehow knowing we cannot go into the houses. It is not safe to go in the houses. They will be waiting for us there, they are going house to house.
Then I find myself in some kind of a warehouse out in the middle of nowhere. It is dark outside. Some of the people who gathered together from my neighborhood are there. All around us, asphalt. There is a tall, tall chain link fence with gates and men watching the gates. There is a small plane runway. Periodically trucks come or a plane. There are men there, maybe National Guard, but not a lot. It feels fairly empty. There are several buildings, all gray concrete with big sliding doors and the space inside is not totally empty, but nearly so. Some things on pallets here or there. The space is enourmous. Cavernous. I wonder if it is an airplane hanger.
No one seems in charge but it is not disorganized. People are doing what they are best at, whatever that may be. There are not a lot of people, no crowds. There are a few here or there unloading one of the trucks that came in. A couple are talking on radios, contacting other areas. I am in a small room. People come up to me and give me a bottle of aspirin or cough medicine or whatever they have. We are pooling our resources. I'm taking things in and organizing, but I don't accept everything the people offer. "Keep some with you. We don't want to have everything we have all in once place." We are trying to share and yet keep supplies dispersed at the same time. "You don't know what will happen."
There is determination on the faces of the people. People do not appear afraid or angry, simply quietly going about doing what they can do. I feel somehow attached and detached at the same time, like I am watching everything from a distance even while I play my own part.
I wake up and part of my brain still hears the horses crashing through the bushes on either side of the house. I want to go look out my window toward the house where I slipped into my time/space bubble but I'm afraid I might see myself curled on the concrete sidewalk, or a shimmer of me left over, lingering from some other time/space where there were horses and men crashing through the bushes...
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