Dreamscape: Apocalyptic Visions
Through the years, I have had a number of apocalyptic dreams in which I see the world around me in devastation. I’m not so sure that I can really call all of them recurring dreams as some are altogether different – though most revolve around the same things. One of the things that is present in most of the dreams, is a practically indescribable odor. Years ago, I thought it was the smell of burning flesh. That didn’t last too long – I had no idea what burning flesh smelled like. So, I kept wondering as to what this peculiar smell could be compared. This was also when I discovered that, at least for myself, dreams have smells. Not much of an epiphany, but, it becomes a real discovery when you add that these smells are tangible. I could touch this odor, it got all over everything and it was sticky beyond compare. Once this odor was touched, there was no getting rid of it. Just this year, a scant few months ago, I finally figured out what this totally disgusting odor was: hazelnut! I admittedly hate the smell and taste of hazelnut, but, this isn’t just subliminal suggestions – after careful thought, the despicable smell is none other than hazelnut. Below is one of my first and most recurring of apocalyptic dreams.
I am walking below street-level and I can see the blue sky above. I can also see the shells of devastated homes. There are only fragments of streets and sidewalks remaining, and those few are but piles of rubble here and there. What I see below street-level are steel beams, and it looks as though the city was built upon them. Once the bombs had dropped, the intense heat stripped the beams of whatever covering they may have had. The steel was charred and, twisted. I walk for miles and miles and each step is a struggle. What minute amount of street surface is left, is in piles and heaps, making it, at best, difficult to walk. I have no destination, no direction, and seemingly no purpose for my travels. I am walking aimlessly. I see no one and there is no sound. The remaining buildings look as though they were, at some point, the center of the business district, particularly a mall of some sort. The buildings above ground that had been demolished were homes . . . in the ghetto. There was a most despicable smell in the air – the smell of hazelnut. It was everywhere, and adhered to everything it touched. Fade to black.
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“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” by Iron Butterfly
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