Last night, I had a dream that startled me awake with fear and dread. After I woke, I actually had to think, and think hard, if what had happened was true or not. Of course it wasn't, but, oh, if it had been, such misery!
I was in a house I had dreamed about just a few nights ago. It was a fake modern-rustic two story lodge-like house in a well developed subdivision at the base of a mountain. I say base, but it was more like a mile or so away, in the mountain's flood plain. The house was two stories, with the entrance way open to the second story, and windows on the second story (when standing at the loft railing on the second floor looking over the entry way, the windows were straight across, overlooking the roofs of the other houses and the base of the heavily forested mountain).
Te first thing I remember of the dream was heading into the bedroom at the top of the staitrs near the landing/loft, and picking up Liza. Liza was a little older than she is now. We chatted some small talk and I carried her out to the landing.
My dad was out on the landing, and my cousin Laura, a much younger and more playful cousin Laura, was sliding down the banister. Another cousin was at the top of the stairs, though I don't recall which one. I vaguely think it was my cousin Mike, at his current age, but I'm not sure.
Someone in the crowd of family down in the living room (living room merged into the entrance way), asked my dad a question, which he answered. I started correcting him, or answering the question more thoroughly. Out of the corner of my eye (I was looking down into the living room), I saw a six prong, dark black smoke explosion on the mountain.
"Did you see that?" I asked loudly.
Everyone turned to see what I was pointing at, though the angle of view for everyone but the four of us on the landing was poor.
We all heard, however, the distant explosion and saw the black trail of a huge Redwood tree flying toward the house. We watched as it came closer and closeer and closer, until it went over the house and crashed behind it, with another explosion.
I turned to look at my dad, as another crash sounded, and a huge branch dropped through the roof to my right, not ten feet from my dad and me. Afyer looking at the crashed branch, I turned back to my dad and asked, "What is it with this house?" He replied, I think it's in the drain field." After I woke up I realized he probably meant it was in the foothill's flood plain.
Dad said something to me. At this point, as in many dreams, we were magically teleported to another location: we were downstairs, with everyone else.
Suddenly, there was this loud crash, as tons of rock and concrete started dumping through the roof. I jumped up immediately, and started running to the interior of the house, under the stairs up to the loft. I made it 4 maybe 5 steps before remembering what my dad had told me in the previous dream of this place: you have to run towards the falling debris, and climb it as it pours down.
So I did.
Upon realizing the falling rocks would crush the house, I turned back to the rocks and started climbing them. They kept falling, and I kept climbing. Eventually the rocks stopped falling, and I was standing on the top of the pile. The house was completely shredded, and everyone was under the pile.
I woke up realizing everyone was dead. The dread was overwhelming. My entire family was dead, and I had saved myself by climbing the rock piles.