I had a very strange dream last night/this morning…
Some state agency did a study of the water supply in my area. The official conclusion was that blocking a particular waterway would increase the overall water supply. The state’s Department of Transportation signed off on it, and a date was set.
The day came. Although nobody knew exactly what was going to happen, there was no evacuation of the neighborhoods that might be affected. From our small house in our neighborhood of small houses, I looked out the window from time to time. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I kept looking nonetheless.
At dusk, I saw what looked like an explosion off in the distance. It wasn’t a typical explosion; instead of flames or a fireball, it looked more like the Tasmanian Devil from the old Looney Tunes cartoons had plowed through a pile of trees and dark, burgundy-colored leaves. The swirling mass of tree branches, leaves, and earth moved like a tornado, except that it followed a straighter path.
As the swarm approached, I shouted out to everyone else in the house, ‘Here it comes! Brace yourself!’ I found a spot in the middle of the house, against a wall adjacent to a bathroom to my left, a staircase in front of me, and right next to the doorway of a bedroom across from the stairs. I waited, unsure of what was about to happen, and hoping that the house would not be obliterated.
The street lights outside suddenly disappeared; the house started moving quickly, in a straight line, as if it were being dragged across the outfield of a ballpark. We were moving so quickly, I briefly worried that we would end up in the small river that ran through the middle of the town. I shut my eyes, and waited.
After about twenty seconds, the house slowed to a stop. When I opened my eyes, everything around me looked more or less the same. Unsurprisingly, the DVD player and the microwave were out—but the living room lights were still on, and the Xmas tree remained fully lit. The cracks I expected to find in the walls and/or ceiling were nowhere to be seen.
Steeling myself for what I might see next, I walked to the front door, and opened it.
The almost-linear path we had taken was marked by a 50-wide swath of grass and dirt that crossed lawns and cross streets for as far as I could see. Where our houses used to stand now stood broken pieces of two-by-fours standing at angles, and the remnants of basements and foundations. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that the entire neighborhood was a new development under construction. [From this, I assume our house must have sat on a corner lot.]
Driveways remained untouched, with cars, trucks, and minivans still parked in them, as if everything had been shifted over a few lots. In fact, I thought I saw my car a couple of blocks away.
That’s as much as I remember.
(17 December 2014)