Dystopian visions

Last night I dreamt that super tsuanmis, one after the other, were covering the US in water, wiping out Florida and the East coast, then the Gulf states and threatening the West Coast.  A new westward movement was taking place, not in covered wagons but in cars and vans loaded to the gills with suitcases, mattresses, chairs and bikes atop of them or coming out of windows.   People were fleeing  to the mountains.  Then these messy caravans started coming from the west, bumper to bumper.  We were meeting in the middle of the country. As the coastal lands disappeared, people fled in mindless droves to higher peaks in Southwest Colorado and western states. Little Miss Sunshine from the movie was among them.  The Rockies were becoming so overcrowded that a violent mood set in.  Desperation mounted.  It would be survival of the fittest.   Where do we go next? Panic levels rose with the water. Mine did, too. I woke up with a start, full of anxiety:  America was disappearing like Atlantis.  We would be a nation under water, indivisible and invisible.

Good heavens. I’ve been reading too many stories about global warming, the polar ice caps melting in Anarctica and the Arctic. I lay in bed for a while, until other noir thoughts pushed me out, bombs exploding at the Boston Marathon, loss of life and limbs. Limbs?  I jumped out of bed to stop the thoughts.  It was 6:00 am, too early to be up, too scary not to be.   

So here I sit at the computer with my morning joe having thoughts of destruction and violence that won’t go away.  The morning news on Yahoo doesn’t help.  An 8-year-old is among the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings.  The news is disturbing.  It’s 9/11, and Aurora, and Shady Grove all over again.   It’s raining like hell out.  Thunder sounds and lightening fills the dark windows of my bedroom.  My daughter Elissa, an early riser, messages me that she dreads going out and the windshield wipers on the Sebring make loud scrapping screeching noises.   

Storm und drung.  The rain will pass I tell her.  Hang in there.  But I’m wondering to myself if this is so. If these storms of destruction and death will stay with us a long time, until America disappears, and the world with it.  And the anger and the hate with it.

What’s the world coming to?  Nightmare scenarios dance in my head. . 

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