City of the Damned

I had this weird dream last night. Now, my dreams are usually not all steeped in mystery and symbolism. For instance, I’m not the kind of guy to have a dream where I’m staring at a Baby Ruth candy bar floating around in a mud puddle while Scott Bayo plays the bongos with a garden hose behind me – now that would be some good symbolism. My dreams are usually, well, strange, but also pretty obvious in their meaning and sometimes they are weird and seem to not have a meaning so much as express how I’m viewing some particular thing that’s on my mind. That’s what this last one was, I think. No point, no deep meaning or resolution to be found; just the most noticeable things (it takes a lot to get my attention) my mind can relate to me as a summary of what’s been on my mind: the recovery of New Orleans. Here we go.

It was basically ‘Night of the Living Dead’. It started out with me running, riding my bike, and driving from Lakeview to the river in the way that dreams can shred continuity and still your mind sort of ‘knows’ what’s going on. I had the sense; or maybe suspicion is a better word, the whole time that this was all a dream. But I’ve had that same sensation in the last few months when I wasn’t dreaming so knowing I’m in a dream isn’t as much of a given as it was six months ago. So I’m making my way to the river through all the damage (no need to exaggerate that for the sake of a dream) and there are people who are trying to get me – the living dead don’t ya know. There are others trying to get to the river as well who aren’t the living dead, but actually living. The military has promised to evacuate people, but they have to get to the river since its too dangerous for troops to enter the city and rescue people (in my dream I’d remembered hearing this from a time before the dream started, which is weird in of itself) So I get to the river and the levee is about 4 times wider than it actually is and there are armed guards everywhere and you have to go through this sort of checkpoint. They didn’t check ids or anything; they just kind of look you up and down and let you pass. As I’m walking along the fence toward the big-ass C-130 that’s going to fly us all out I run into some friends, but they’re on the outside of the fence whereas I am on the inside. They’re saying, ‘help us, we have to get out of here’. To which I respond ‘No problem. Relax. All you have to do is follow this fence until you get to the checkpoint and the guards will let you in.’ ‘No’ they insist, ‘they won’t. We’ve been here for days and they won’t let us in.’ Now I’m standing there at this fence trying to think so very hard (1 what is it about them that they can’t get in… answer to that seems possible since they’re almost exactly like me in every way. (2 what is it about me that they let me in… answer to that is possible either. So there’s this announcement from somewhere ordering everyone to board the plane and then sirens going off. So I just walk off toward the plane with my friends still standing there at the fence waiting for whatever kind of hell was coming for them as I board the plane. I get on this big-ass plane to find there were only about 10 people on it so the plane was mostly empty. As the plane takes off with the kind of special effects that would embarrass Pixar since my dreaming mind has horrible spatial skills, the steward stands up with a microphone and a slide show starts where he’s talking about us being chosen to purchase timeshares or something. As he’s talking I’m looking at all the people down on the levee. Some are walking like the living dead and some are running. The plane turns so I can’t see them anymore so I turn my attention back to the guy talking in front of the slide show and say ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me’.

6 Comments so far

  1. Laurie (unregistered) on January 31st, 2006 @ 5:01 pm

    Dear Jack,

    Stop analyzing your dreams.

    If you have a disturbing reoccuring dream look for the one thing that is completely

    odd or out of place no matter how strange the rest is.

    Unless, you’ve already had your share of premonitions I wouldn’t over analyze any of it.

    If you write the nightmares out it helps.


  2. Hannah (unregistered) on January 31st, 2006 @ 5:08 pm

    Stop with the brown acid before bedtime.

  3. Jack Ware (unregistered) on January 31st, 2006 @ 5:39 pm

    Nobody said it was a nightmare, Laurie. My nightmares are on a whole other level – and writing them out might make them come true – everyone knows that – sheesh.

  4. NO_Doc (unregistered) on January 31st, 2006 @ 9:07 pm

    OK Jack….my guesses here are:

    a) you have horrible survivor guilt about not having been as badly damaged as your friends.

    b)you’re spending too much time watching B movies from Blockbuster since you’ve already seen everything else they have since there is nothing else to do in your FEMA trailer

    c) that Numero Tres from Taqueria Corona that you had last night was talking to you

    d) all of the above.


  5. Pat Street (unregistered) on January 31st, 2006 @ 9:48 pm

    Hey Jack, I’m TBK’s amigo from H.S., (and Craig’s too)I metcha at the wedding, Great officiating job,by the way…!Way to go Rev.!Have a beer,(or 5),watch some Comedy Central,and, hopefully, the ‘scary voices’ will “hush”fer a while,OR, try sleepin’ on yer stomach, maybe the blood won’t go to the ‘Stephen King/Dean Koontz, part of yer brain…(What…? It’s worth a try, ya nevah know…Free therapy fer what ails’ ya…pleasent dreams, bro, Pat

  6. Laurie (unregistered) on February 1st, 2006 @ 1:54 am

    What if it actually happens and we tched it all off.


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