“The Fire is coming! Get to the shelter!” The basement shelter vaguely resembles some places where I have lived but always expands into a much larger and more complex space. Looking through a small window, just above ground level, I can see the fire rolling over land, engulfing everything in its path. More vivid and detailed than the best Hollywood cgi effects, the image is etched into my mind. I can hear someone yelling, telling me to get back from the window but I am transfixed. Just as I begin to wake up to leave this place I begin to consider the implications of ‘radiation’ in some type of ‘mental’ image.
Dreams of the apocalypse have haunted me for as long as I can remember. After a fairly significant hiatus from apocalyptic type fiction (as is reflected in the obvious neglect of this site), I’m back here pondering the significance of my horribly vivid dreamworld. The dreams serve as reminders of some type.
Rationally, who would want to willingly fuel a dark preoccupation with the end of civilization and death with fictional depictions of such? It is as if I am seeking out some meaning in the expressive imaginations of other people.
Certainly, one could argue that the apocalyptic entertainment that I have fed my brain over the years rattles around up there and is occasionally expressed in dreams. But how did I have these types of dreams before I was ever even exposed to the concept?
Collective subconscious, archetypal imprints? I really don’t know. I suppose I’ll just throw it to the internet wasteland, the pyramids of our age that will disappear into thin air leaving no trace for archeologists of the next great civilization. How many different incarnations on Earth alone? Unknowable, at least at my pitiful level of awareness.