This will be the fifth time I've dreamed this in two weeks. Paranoia is running rampant through my mind. I figured I'd share some of it here. Maybe it's catching.
I'm holed up in my house. Blinds drawn against the sun, or maybe against prying eyes. Darkness living room, darkness house. I can smell the ripe, decaying sweetness of the dead. My children and I quiet, not wanting to attract attention.
Someone, somewhere has fucked up big time. Death is loose in the world. I'm not sure whether our rural living has saved us, or if for some strange reason we are immune.
Heat shimmering across the landscape. I can hear cattle bawling at the ranch next door. Then E comes home and we make plans to leave.
E leaves, then comes back with 3 horses, and 2 mules from a riding stable nearby*. I've been packing meanwhile, putting food that will last in airtight containers. Packing books I think we may need (midwifery? woodcrafting?). Our camping gear. Wishing ferverently that I'd been one of those survival freaks. Oh I wished. Scared to death, with three small children. My years of catching food, skinning, living off the land are far far behind me. I thank the Gods I've lost weight and am in better shape, my fibro contained.
E returns from the shed and his packing to tell me we are heading towards the Appalachians.** We start riding and I can feel the coolness of the shade, the dappled green texture of the woods.
*I didn't know we even HAD a riding stable nearby until discussing this with E later.
**Same with the Appalachians, I didn't know why he'd want to go there, until discussing it with him afterwards.