Hello!… So I want to share a dream I had before few weeks. It’s one of the few dreams I remeber and managed to write down.
First some background. I’m from a small town in Central South Bulgaria. (sorry for any grammar mistakes). There is a creek near our town that I usually spent most of my time foraging and taking photos. On this creek there are few abandoned old cement watering canals. One of them croses the creek and people use it for bridge.
So, I’m walking from the fields to the creek and I see that the creek has carved the shores around the cement canal and has became something like a big pond. On the middle of the canal is standing an old man. Long gray-ish hair, worn down suit and holds something in his hand.
I go to him and see that he looks at west, at the sun setting over the mountains.
- Are you waiting for the sunset?-I ask him.
- No,… for the bombs.- he replies calmly, like it’s something casual.
I got shocked from his reply.
- Bombs! What are you talking sir!
- The bombs! Don’t you know? They are bombing everyone. Eventually they would bomb us too.
- But how,… how could you wait to be bombed?
- Look around son.- he continues with his calm voice. Look what our world has became, there is nothing to live for.
Then I look around and a wave of realization hits me. The bushes and short trees around the creek were filled with rubbish and debree, scraps of cloth and plastic were swimming around the muddy waters of the creek. the old canal was crumbling under my feet and everything was so oddly silent. No frogs, no birds… like everything nice was stripped out of the nature.
Then the old man rises the thing in his hand. It turns our it’s an old military can filled with rakia (srtong fruit-based alcohol). He takes a sip and hands it to me.
-it may not be today.-he says with a sense of dissapintment in his voice.- Take a sip, my boy.
I take a sip… and then I somehow got into our neighborhood, at the end of our street where the fields begin. I start walking back to our house and started realising how still and dead everything looks. The walkways are overgrown by pale green weeds that start crawling on the road. The fences and the gates of the yards are all rusted and also taken up by vines. The paint of the houses looks like it’s been bleeched and everything is cracked up and crumbly. The sky is very pale blue with long tear shaped clouds and the sun… The sun is completely white, it resembles dead man’s eye. Also the dead silence again. Everything looks like all the beauty and life has been extracted from it.
I continue the walk to my house and I start noticing something else. On every porch, on every gate there are obituaries. I go to our yard gare and see our obituaries. Of my grandparents, parents and the final one is mine own. I read it and it’s singed “By the ones left that remebered”. I then start looking for the date. It was saying 2-nd November nad the year was 2 and then 3 letters instead of numbers that I don’t remember.
And I wake up. I wrote it up fast before I forget it and I’m currently translating the things I wrote in my notebook. Later in the day I shared the dream I had with my grandpa. I was surpried when he told me that he had very simmilar one a few years ago, when they with grandma went to the city to take care of my cousins for a few days.
Fot the people that made it down there, thank you for reading about my scary, but very interesting dream. I really apreciate it.👍🏻