#30 – Sign of the Apocalypse

Dream from January 17, 2016

I am returning home from school on the bus. This is probably from elementary school because it looks to be early 2003 and it’s the Erie Road country home I’m at (mentioned in previous posts).

I get off through the bus door that is on the opposite side of the street where the woods are and the wild things are at. Without any trouble or arguments, I walk across the street (the bus driver, Mrs. Husselgrave, used to get mad at us kids for crossing the road without waiting for her signal) to the blacktop driveway. There is another bus parked in the woods area to the right of the blacktop and when I try to walk into the driveway, it starts to come toward me quickly, nearly running me over. Then I see and hear mom say to the bus driver, “I told you”, reminding her that I must have done this multiple times in the past. Really. You were coming towards me without warning – what was I supposed to do? And why are you parked there anyway? Wow, I sound like the CinemaSins guy now.

I get to the familiar set of concrete/plastic front steps, which now has this metal mesh ramp attached over the steps now. I eye it curiously as I bound over it, thinking that it’s for the cat or for someone with a wheelchair.

So I go inside through the open door and immediately see a haggard looking cat, its fur around its head all puffed up and patchy. The ceiling fan is going. It seems to be rather smoky in the house (maybe from something cooking in the kitchen).

I walk down the familiar hallway to the left and see another cat, which is obviously Goldie from the present but he looks worse for wear with his fur all lost and looking scraggly. His ears are bent back and he looks angry. When I try to pick him up, he hisses and growls at me. I walk back down the hallway, where my old room is on the right, my two sisters rooms are next to each other on the left, and a bathroom is on the right (CCR, anyone?), and into the main part of the house that is divided between a family room and a living room.

This is where I used to live many years ago but it looks like an apocalypse hit it and everything has really taken a turn for the worst. Then I think of the “Rebel School” from Star Wars I could have attended, seeing the application paper in my head and I hear mom sarcastically say under her breath, “that rebel school you could have gone to”, with a laugh from uncle as if that’s never going to happen now. I’m eleven years old. There’s still a lot of time for you to ship me off to some school set in a fictional world.

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