I don’t always remember my dreams. I remember snippets, I remember that I’m busy, I remember places in my dreams that I’ve never been, and frequently I go back to these places. When I’m there, I remember how to get to other places and who lives two blocks over.
This was a new one, or possibly just a new perspective. And so vivid that I remember it clearly six hours later.
My husband and I were in a toy shop of some sort and there was an outdoor terrace. When we went outside we were 8-9 stories up in a building, looking out over a very crowded city with lots of patios and terraces. I remember seeing someone’s striped umbrella and small table. A woman next to me gasped and pointed at the red brick building about a block away. (One o’clock from my perspective and 10 degrees higher from where I stood.)
The top of one of the lower corners that was topped with something white (it had a gargoyle or decorative plinth of some sort,) was wobbling. I told my husband and suddenly, the whole section leaned, coming apart from the main building with a sickening lurch, raining bricks down on people and patios and trees and cars. It didn’t collapse straight down like 9/11, this one fell outward. I saw the striped umbrella get squished under a piece of wall.
The wall of debris was getting closer. I knew people were dying in that building and underneath it. I pulled my very calm husband back into the shop, and closed the door and everything was quiet. The shopkeeper told us that the store was closing and kicked us all out.
I was upset at what I’d seen, and a bit frustrated that my husband remained so inexplicably calm. He told me it was all an illusion and maybe we can find a toy shop that doesn’t close so early.
I woke up in my bed, shaken at how vivid this dream was.