The White Trees and Superman Story

A strange dream, not entirely realistic but interesting to me because it had a story line:

Me and some friends road on top of a slow moving training that snaked peacefully through a beautiful parklike country side of low grass and tall willowy trees with white trunks.  At some point, I and a few others jumped off and lost track of the train.  We were walking along looking for the train when suddenly something grabbed us from behind and plucked us into the air.  Seconds later, we were dangling 3 stories high in the air near one of the trees, completely bewildered and confused.

We began to debate what had happened.  My friends had some ideas about maybe it was UFOs.  My argument was that it had to be that one of the trees that had grabbed us, but the others thought this was ridiculous.

"But how then are we still dangling now without falling unless the tree is grabbing us?" I asked.  They had no answer.

Eventually we were put down and scurried on our way, still not in agreement about what had happened but in a hurry to get away from whatever it was.  After a while of continued wandering, I began to inspect the trees and noticed many of them had a double trunk on the bottom, almost as if they had legs.  The more I looked at them, the more lifelike they seemed.  Then I spied a tree that looked like a humanoid, with two long trunk legs, two arm like large branched and an upright branch at the top where the head would have been.  It's bark was white and peeling and it had few leaves or side branches, just a few twigs.  It stood in a stooped crouched position and when it realized I was staring, it loped away from sight before I could point it out to the others.  Now I felt confident the trees were alive and animate but since they had not really hurt us previously, although I was wary of them, I did not feel great fear.  We continued on and found our way back home to civilization which is where the next part of the story begins.

In this part, I was working together with a super hero type person to defeat an evil villain.  I have no name for the super hero so I will for the sake of the story call him Superman.  The villain had been thus far kicking our butt.  Superman was not strong enough.  I and a few others who knew Superman had been working with him to defeat the villain using various strategies but none had worked and we were in dire straights.  Eventually, the villain had found my house when I wasn't home and had destroyed the inside, breaking apart much of my furniture.  We then quickly moved to rented place and continued on.

Soon after, I went off to work on the villain project and when I came home, the new place also was also broken up inside.  Now I was really scared.  How did the villain find my hideout so quickly when I had gone through such pains to keep it hidden?  If he could do that, there was no place for us to hide.  We knew the villain would be back any minute and so Superman and I and a few cohorts prepared a last stand against him.

When he came, he quickly defeated Superman and as Superman lay unconscious, we feared for our lives and all humanity.  He could easily kills us at any second, but then I began the last ditch backup plan.  As the villain stood outside the house in a location I had planned in advance, hidden machines around him zapped him from all directions and split him into 8 different individuals.

At this time, I recalled back to the creation of the villain.  It was time for the back story.  It had all started with the animate trees back in the park.  Scientists had studied them and were able to extract the spark of life from one of the trees.  The spark was then isolated and the end result was a terrible powerful creature that had become the villain.  Now I had no way of destroying the villain's spark of life but I could split him into parts, although with little idea of the outcome other than that his power would also be split into parts.

After the zapping, I watched as 8 young boys with dark hair now stood where the villain once had been.  They were all dressed similarly in dark clothes and looked to be about 8 or 10 years old.  Their personalities seemed much changed from the villain and 6 of them immediately moved away in different directions and soon were out of sight.  Two stayed for a short while, one slightly taller and appearing older than the other and the taller one, did all the talking.  Curious but nervous, I approached and spoke with him.  I asked him how he was and what his plans were.  I knew I was taking a great risk because even at only 1/8 of his original power, he could easily destroy me. Superman also still lay unconscious and vulnerable.  The taller boy acted as if I were a stranger and said, "We will need this lantern," and also indicated a need for a few other utilitarian items and so took them without asking.  I did not argue.  He seemed to speak more towards his younger cohort than me.  Then they also left the area and disappeared into the world.  I hoped that they would not cause trouble but if some of them did, once Superman recovered, he would at least be able to handle them one at a time now with their power thus split.

After the commotion, the police had arrived and were inspecting the damage to the inside of my home, trying to figure out what had happened.  During the fight, the house had been further devastated and everything was broken, scattered, and strewn.  Me and my cohorts needed to make an excuse to get inside and recover the body of Superman which was under a guise so that regular people could not see him.  The police let us in hoping to get some clues from us about what had happened but we gave only vague answers that were not useful.  Once in, some of us distracted the police while others of us got Superman's body.  Superman would recover.  It was a partial victory for us but we did not know what kinds of creatures the 8 children would become or what the future would hold.  We could only hope that the future would be brighter.                    

Radiation

I've been here several years now, in this new place, and I'm starting to fit in, or at least a feel like I am. I know what to do now, I'm a useful member of society and they seem to accept me. I stay here in a room at the place of one of the native families, probably so they can keep an eye on me and make sure that I am what I say I am. That seems to be the custom here as a matter of course. Newcomers are placed with established families and stay with them long term as they work for their new society. This are a distrustful society.

Personally, I have no problem with this place but I can't really say I love it either. It's just that I had no place to go and here has worked out for me. I have a good job and a good place to stay and it's been a nice stable environment. They seem to find me useful and if I stay here long enough, they will likely eventually let me have a place of my own. It's only a matter of time, sticking to the job, and staying out of trouble. It's a pretty good life really.

Down the street, another one of the newcomers is also staying. He hasn't been here as long as I have, but he's been generating a great deal of interest because of the new science and technology he has brought with him. At first he just did small experiments but the leaders of this society were very impressed by it, some kind of chemical based technology that generates energy. The main problem is that the technology also generates radioactivity.

People here in this society have little understanding of the dangers of radioactivity. He has tried to explain to them but they just don't get it or they just don't want to get it. They are too excited by the benefits of the technology to want to think about the dangers. I on the other hand have seen some of the damage it's done in other places. I don't understand it either but I do understand that it is dangerous and the expansion of the experiments makes me uneasy. I don't think even he understands fully what he is doing, but the urge to fit in and the excitement of this new society of his both serve to urge him forward with his experiments. There is tremendous pressure on him to do more.

Where before he had only tiny palm sized plastic dishes for his experiments, now he has expanded the experiments to huge wood pallets full of the chemical spread out all across the deck of the house he is staying in. The wood is stacked high and I observe from a distance. Worry gnaws at me and my worst fears are realized when I hear an aweful cracking noise. The deck has collapsed and the wooden pallets on top have fallen to either side! Fearing that radiation is surely escaping now, I run away as fast as I can to the administration building to alert those in charge.

By the time I get there, the place is already in an uproar. People are running around in a panic, some in confusion, others trying to figure out what to do, and still others are found seemingly intent only on proclaiming how right there were that such technology should not have have been undertaken in the first place. Those few had been protesting all along and now their worst fears have been proven right. However, instead of looking fearful or horrified, these few seem perversely happy and justified, as if the chance to be proven right could be actually more important than the safety of their own society. Could they have been involved in the disaster themselves, perhaps to sabotage the experiments and be proven right?

Watching the milieu, I feel frustrated and sick inside. I realize no one knows what to do because there is nothing to be done. My own knowledge of the radiation tells me the only thing that can be done is to run away. It's every man for himself and since my heart never truly belonged to this society, it's an easy decision for me to decide to run. Know the winds blow to the south, I run hard and fast to the north. But all the while, I still cannot be hopeful. Because the winds are not reliable. Eventually they will shift back and the radiation will blow this way too. And I can only go a little to the north before I must stop. Because this land is an island and there is no way off. Eventually the winds will shift, bringing the radiation with it, and then we will all die. One after another.

A Lesson Not Learned

I lived in an underground city, my living quarters just off the hall leading to our work place which was a large 'workstation' that dealt with managing the inner workings of the rest of the complex. My area of involvement was just one of many many others. My view of the overall picture was limited. I worked with the same people each day, maybe 5 or 6 main people and occasionally I had cause to chat with a few dozen others. But that was about it. I had little knowledge or interest with what went on beyond my area.

But there were rumors circulating. Some people from other complexes in far away areas said they felt sorry for us, that our latest development was built on unstable ground, that we were in danger. But I shrugged these rumors off. There were always naysayers. Like that guy in the other building who was always spouting off about dangers. Sure he was intelligent, in many ways a genius really. He knew all about the machinery and inner workings of things. When there was a complex problem, he was the one to fix it. But sadly, his personality was lacking. He just didn't know how to talk to people right, so they would understand, so they would listen. And he was always frustrated about something. After a while, nobody wanted to listen. You can't spend your whole life living in fear. At some point, you just have to get over it and move on.

And that was what I was doing as I quietly ate lunch in the communal eating room where food was always available. We selected and ate from a buffet area according to our tastes. Lunch was always a pleasant and relaxing experience. The area was spacious and never crowded. We didn't believe in inconvenience when it came to eating and we always had plenty of time. We were expected to do our work, but rarely to watch the clock unless there was an official meeting, although there was some social pressure to show up within reasonable time frames each morning in order to get work done, and not to stay out too late for other things. But overall, we all worked and ate on our own time.

Me, I was a night owl and often did much of my work late at night. And so was that genius guy down the hall, which is probably why I ended up talking to him more than most. Oh well, he wasn't a bad guy after all, just misunderstood. And he worked hard, that was good. Everyone respected him for that at least.

Then one day, I was in the hall and calamity struck. The floor lurched violently. I had a vision in my mind of what looked like a vast area of boiling mud. I don't know where or what that means, but at the time this information was significant and very very bad. It was worst case scenario.

We all ran. We had to get to the escape hatches. Many of us made it because we were so organized. We knew what to do, but all our of machines and materials and supplies were lost which was also a calamity, a huge setback. We could never get those things back now. Supplies and even some of us people were left behind. But only a few of us died, a very unlucky few where were caught in the immediate destruction and instantly crushed.

With one exception. The genius man had stayed behind. Somehow, I could feel his intense sadness. He could still leave now if he wanted, but he stubbornly chose not to go. For some reason I could not understand, he wanted to stay and die there even though it didn't make any sense. He told us his decision over the visual intercom after the rest of us were all already outside. He was solemn and he was sure he wanted to stay. None of us knew what to say. Perhaps he was just too sad. Maybe he was disappointed in himself or maybe he was disappointed in us that we did not listen to him. I felt guilty for that, because I had not listened to him. But that memory was painful and not one that I wanted to linger on. Maybe it was just too hard from him to have turned out to be right. It was better for him to just be disgruntled and crabby all the time than to have turned out to be all too horribly right. Maybe he felt there was more that he should have tried to do but didn't. Now he just didn't want to go on. And so he stayed. And he died.

We all went on with our lives of course. Now living on the surface again for a while, someone from far away was asking me about our life here and our complexes. I had an image in my mind of our systems, one living complex near the surface, another just below that connected by a small tubelike pathway, and then another below that, four in all, all huge of course and each a different shape according to the geology around us.

Except the fifth one was damaged and some damage at the lower part of the fourth one as well. We had some problems, but I I was still proud of all we had. You can't win them all and sometimes there are problems, minor setbacks, but we would overcome and move on. That's why I was up here now for a while. But they would work it out, they would fix it, because they knew what they were doing. They had told us so and I believed them. Because why would I not? They had done all this much for us already, things beyond my understanding but things I respected. I would go on doing my job as always of course. And things would work out. I was proud of my job and my people and our complexes, the decisions we had made and the bravery we had shown. We were all highly organized of course, and resilient, and that was something to be proud of.

But somewhere else in my mind, far away, another consciousness realized this pride was built on lack of understanding. And that nothing had been learned from the past tragedy and horror. Nothing would improve because the same flawed system was still in place. The man who had died in the damaged complex had died for nothing. Everything would go on the same as it always had. And this truly was sad.

Flood

For some reason, my dreams have been dark of late:

I was walking down a wide dirt road with a friend. We were relieved to see we were coming up on a restaurant constructed of old wood slats. The place was busy with customers and activity. My friend said he needed to go do something and he would catch up with me shortly. He went to the left and I went into the front door on the right.

The place was bustling inside with a classic western motif and what looked like cement floors. The people around me were mostly dressed in dusty brown colored clothes as if from an older era. I sidled up to the bar and ordered some food before involving myself in small talk with some of the locals around the pool table. Eventually, I realized my food was long overdue and made my way back to the kitchen area to find out the only cook, with a pot belly and all dressed in white, was on break. He apologized for the delay and asked if he could just have 10 minutes to eat something himself and then he would start right away on my food. He looked exhausted and in much need of rest so I took the news cheerfully.

Here it gets a bit blurry. I remembered it all clearly at one time but now it is fading. But I know I was called away for some reason. I left the building and went to speak with some people that were some kind of news organization. I remember seeing various scenes of confusion and fear. One scene I remember clearly was a man on a horse with muddy water coming up almost to the horse's back. The man was trying to get the horse to move forward by clamping his legs together repeatedly but the horse would only make as if to move but then balk. I had the impression the horse was exhausted. Around him, other people were moving around in the water, some on make shift rafts, others half swimming or slogging through on higher ground. Everyone was too busy to help the man with the horse.

Then I came back to the restaurant. Some time had passed and the ambiance had changed drastically. I could hear an angry black man's voice demanding that someone get those people out of his restaurant, that they had destroyed it, etc. He sounded almost irrational and used a variety of epithets.

I walked through the same front door I had entered earlier and the view was shocking. The entire interior was now covered up to about 7 feet high with a dark grey colored mud, the walls, the furniture, everything. A few people walked around listlessly with heads down in despair. Slung high over a tall rack were 6 dead adults, each completely covered in the dark steely mud. Several other dead people were slung over some of the other furniture, all bent at the stomach with arms and legs dangling down towards the floor. The shock of the sight woke me with a start.