Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Maybe It's Time to Cut Back on the Post-Apocalyptic SciFi?

I woke up last night with a start. I had had a nightmare. I hate when that happens. These nasty little nair-du-wells of REM sleep always feel so real that it is terribly disturbing.

In my nightmare, the city was devoid of all human inhabitants, except for those of us who were living in a  cinderblock house, very similar to a rather cubic housing complex I had seen on House Hunters International in Paris. It had struck me as odd that someone had built something so reminiscent of the Soviet Politburo days in the City of Lights. That oddity of housing construct struck me so out of place that that is probably why it ended up stalking me in my dream.

Then there was a young boy/girl, couldn't really tell, who was hiding out with us from the evil hordes that were roaming the street. Hordes, by the way, that I had not seen in my dream sequence as yet since the streets were completely empty in the dream. But I knew the situation was not a good one. Suddenly I told the boys (both of my sons were with me but no hubby) that it was time to go and take our chances in the real world. The youngster with us would not leave so we had to leave him/her behind. The adolescent was left sitting in the corner of the bed staring out the window. Don't know why I would have left a person, especially a young one, to fend for themselves. That is so not me. But I suppose in the event of an apocalyptic world ending event, your instincts take over and the concept of self-preservation, where you defend your own and do what's best for your own, even if others do not want to participate, becomes paramount.

The next scene in my little Jungian drama was me, slinging several  shotguns and an Ak47 semi-automatic rifle (anti 2nd-amendmenters might want to stop here) over my shoulder, ala caricatured Sicilian and Basque countrymen. I also thought I resembled an anti-Nazi partisan from World War 2. Which would fit considering my family's pointed education towards the Holocaust.

Now I had the boys put all the ammo in one backpack, always need as much ammo as you can get when battle unknown apocalyptic inducing foes. The next backpack was full of foodstuffs, and our emergency supply protein bars of course, water somehow included. Then with the third backpack, I told the boys to pack one change of clothes and all the clean underwear they could fit in the backpack.

So even in my minds eye of apocalyptic downfall of humanity I was channeling my Jewish-mother overwhelmingly concerned that the boys should always have on clean underwear....Go figure.

That's when I woke up.

Yuck, I do hate nightmares.

Meanwhile I am so looking forward to the new movie World War Z coming out this weekend. Maybe watching the previews was the catalyst for my dream...

Perhaps its time to stop watching post-apocalyptic scifi dramas?...Nah, what would be the fun in that?


P.S. Channeling my Jewish-mother again, having watched the preview, I think Brad Pitt needs a descent haircut.

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