I had another crazy apocalyptic dream last night. The sky darkened as usual, the fire arrows/missiles flew across the sky. My family was in my house. My friends were elsewhere, in a different house. Somehow, in this dream I was able to go back and forth between where my friends were and where my family was between the time that the sky became dark and the time that I died.

It was a little different this time. My friends, I could feel, were going to go to Hell when they died, and my family was not. This may be right, because the friends I saw in my dreams were all drug addicts and sluts. My family is very spiritual, and they do not do anything of the sort. I tried to warn my friends, but they didn’t listen. They seemed so far away and out of reach. They were in this big room full of drawers, and they were rooting through them, pulling all the stuff out of them and throwing it, as if they were frantically looking for something in their last minutes on earth. When I was with my family, we were all sitting on this couch embracing each other, bracing for the impact when the missiles would hit.

I was with my family when the missiles hit and killed us. Moments before it happened, I hurried up and got up off the couch we were all on and ran into the bathroom. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, pulled them out of the box, broke them in half and threw them in the toilet. Then I ran back into the room where my family was, sat down on the couch next to my dad, grabbed his hand and my sister’s hand and squeezed them and told them I loved them, and then the missiles hit and we died, just like in every other end-of-the-world dream.

I woke up crying as usual, crying just as hard as I was in my dream. And I didn’t know what to think. I was scared for my friends, I was scared for my family… I was just plain scared. I read the Revelation a few times and it still confused me. Then, after thinking about it to the point of mental and emotional exhaustion, I wanted a cigarette. I grabbed my cigarettes out of my purse and just as I was about to light one up when I remembered the cigarette element of my dream. And something was stopping me from smoking. Something was telling me, “Don’t do it.” Something was telling me to do what I did in my dream. So I stopped and thought about it. “Okay,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to try this and see how it feels.” So I went to the same bathroom of my house that I was in during my dream when I flushed my cigarettes. I pulled my cigarettes out of the box, broke them in half, threw them in the toilet and flushed them. The whole time, I could hardly breathe. My heart was in my throat and I felt like I was suffocating with…fear? Anxiety? I don’t know. But it felt strange and very significant.

So today I quit smoking. Yay for me.

Author: FoosballWizard

September 4th, 2007 at 4:38 pm in Philosophy and Religion

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