We were in a cabin together, in the mountains. Our family, also some friends I think. It looked like the Rockies or Sierras. In fact maybe it’s the mental image I have of the cabin and hills we’re going to in Spring with friends from church. But it was on the rocky hills, granite and dirt and level-upon-level rising out the back windows towards the sky.
At first it was steam in the distance. Then rumbling. We went to explore and found a hole in the ground filled with angry water. I think this part of the dream comes from an amazing drone-shot video I saw yesterday of an open pit-mine somewhere in Arizona. Eventually the water fountained into a geyser, exploding out of the ground with heat and force. I guess we ran because the dream picked up elsewhere, as much as I can remember.
I think maybe I knew, in the dream that is, what was coming. Cut to Keaton and I, we’re down the hill in the city proper. I’m pretty sure it’s a street scene from the city I grew up in in Central Florida, near the bowling alley and Arby’s where I briefly worked. We were walking, but with haste. It was dark now. And then in the distance it happened, a volcanic eruption. In an example of solid dream physics, we saw the pyrotechnics before we heard and felt the blast.
Debris began to rain around us and I knew we should take shelter under one of the cars lining the streets, but my feet were rooted to the earth in some fear-driven refusal to move. I shouted at Keaton to get under a car.
That’s all I remember.