Shadowfiend23 @ Wrocław

This was a bizarre dream – it was a dream about an apocalypse here on Earth, but it didn’t end when the apocalypse transpired. Not only that, but I didn’t use my lucid dream powers to turn back time, reverse the effects, etc. No, I just watched as events unfolded. Now you can too!

The beginning of the dream was innocuous enough. I was back in my dad’s old house – a house that I lived in for about three years after my parents first got divorced. (Since I was inside a dream, of course I didn’t question the impossibility of me living there again) Night had just fallen, and I had the house to myself. I went upstairs and looked through the fridge for something to snack on. Nothing promising. I slammed the fridge door in dejection and flopped down on the couch, looking out onto the street out of hunger and boredom.

Suddenly, off in the distance, I saw a huge wall of fire, thousands of feet tall, rushing towards the house! It was vaporizing everything in its path: trees, houses, clouds, people. I was horrified! I ran into the bathroom and jumped into the tub, hoping that I could survive by some freak fluke of nature. I did not. The flames seared through the house, and I screamed as I was blinded by swirling gray, crimson, and gold. For me, everything was quiet for a moment.

Soon, I appeared to re-materialize as a disembodied consciousness, a silent sentinel wordlessly watching survivors suffer and struggle to rebuild. With time moving at a blistering pace, I watched as three generations of survivors slowly began to rebuild civilization in small, localized communities. But huge stretches of land were left uncolonized, left to the devices of marauders and scavengers. This is where I was reincarnated.

I regained consciousness suddenly. I was in the body of a four-year-old boy, walking alongside another four-year-old. (I was struck by the sensation – it was unsettlingly close to my very first memories in real life. In real life, at around age four, I remember suddenly having consciousness, having an identity, having memory. I remember it being confusing and unpleasant. I felt like I had been in a pleasant daze until that moment, and then I was jolted into really BEING.) I was carrying a toy around and explaining to the other boy that we knew little about the gods that had lived here before us, about those who had made colossal structures and crafted fine arts. All that we had left of them were scattered trinkets, mere echoes of greatness long since passed. I showed him that the gods were still able to talk to us, to teach us lessons about how to live our life. In fact, the lessons they had for us were essential for survival in the post-apocalyptic society we were born into.

I held up the toy and pressed one of the buttons. A dopey-sounding masculine voice started to say something to the effect of,”Friends are important! Make sure you stick together!” I told the other boy that it was of the utmost importance that we heed this man’s advice – lone wolves die in the wild.

There were other lessons, but I’m sure you already get the picture. I was living proof that humans no longer had any idea who had come before them; in fact, they worshiped the ghosts of the past, misinterpreting them to be gods.