Lately, the things that scare me aren’t death or disease. Although given what I’ve been through in the past ten years (lots of deaths, lots of diseases) you might think those would be at the top of my list.
But no. It’s not that personal. It’s more national and even global.
I wake up in a sweat from nightmares about islands disappearing forever into the ocean. Florida too. And New Orleans.
Or I dream of pregnant women being led off in handcuffs to some sterile, cold place where they are forced to give birth to the babies of their rapists (this is what happens when you binge-watch “A Handmaid’s Tale”).
There’s the recurring nightmare where I’m watching “The Rachel Maddow Show” on TV and the screen goes dark, only to find out days later that she and other “enemies of the people” have been exiled to Siberia (because seriously, people, Putin’s in charge). They are never heard from again.
A particularly terrifying dream image that haunts me is a “Last Supper” scene, with Trump in the center, flanked by his chums from North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, the Philippines and Brazil. Putin is at his immediate right, whispering Goddess only knows what into his ear, while through the windows behind them, off in the distance, a mushroom cloud of radioactivity blossoms.
And then there’s the one where an entire generation (an army!) of dark-haired children who were separated from their parents at our southern border when they were mere infants and toddlers, grow up to murder us in our sleep. Who can blame them?
There is one dream that is different from all these ominous and possibly prophetic dreams. In it, the patriarchy is dead. Long gone. Something healing has risen in its wake. Women hold the power. Unapologetically. “Pro-life” is actually pro-life. Children – every single child – is loved, feels worthy, knows she or he or “they” is enough. Technology facilitates but is no longer master. Nature is revered. Money is obsolete. It feels very “Star Trek-ky”. I wake up from this genre of dream feeling rested, calm and with the words, “Yes, please,” on my lips. I am open to what this new day may bring. I’m hopeful, not dreading the next horror in the headlines.
I feel myself grieving what the United State once was. Not that it was perfect. There was always room for improvement. But it had – as the saying goes – good bones. The bones are now brittle, the joints arthritic. It makes me want to crawl under the covers and dream us all into a medical miracle.
Do you dream about the future? Is it apocalyptic or more of a unicorns and rainbows version of tomorrow? If you’re willing, please share in the comments.