desperation

Rough night last night. Post-two hour crying jag, I fell back to sleep and had a nightmare that kept on going and going and going.

I was in a big house owned by some rich folk. They had a prince visiting from Saudi Arabia and put him on their private jet to fly back home. The jet carried a bomb and crashed into the house. I ran to the basement (oddly enough, with a colleague from work) where we hid while the house above us shook and slowly collapsed. I remember thinking that I needed to create an airspace around my head and also protect the back of my neck, like when you're caught in an avalanche. After the house was down, I saw that a window nearby was accessible, so I opened it and ran out. I felt awful about leaving the colleague but was afraid that if I went in after him, I'd be crushed.

Slowly, the survivors crawled out from the rubble, including a large hispanic family who had a baby. The baby was sitting by itself and the mother looked over and realized that it has died.

Over the next half hour, plane after plane took off from SeaTac (this was in Seattle, apparently) and then crashed within minutes. Planes were crashing all around and with each one I could hear and feel the impact. When planes stopped crashing, fighter-type jets flew over, dumping crystals everywhere. People didn't understand but I knew that they were some kind of poison and in fact they started letting out gas and people were gasping and dying. Somehow I survived all of this and the dream was prepared to go on, but I willed myself to wake up.