Alien Contrails Dream

Last night I had a vivid dream which has stayed with me. These are the details:

It is a bright, beautiful, summer day, and I am walking with a basket in hand down the middle of a farmer’s market downtown. Vendors on each side are selling various fruits and vegetables from carts shaded by yellow umbrellas. There are a lot of people beside me. I do not pay much attention to them, as I am lost mostly in my own thoughts, but I can sense that they are relaxed and cheerful. This little pocket of the world feels totally oblivious to the possibility of danger, and for a while I am caught up in that innocence.

I stop in my tracks. Something whispered into my subconscious mind. I have no idea as to what, but I am drawn regardless to lift my head up. The sky above me is much bluer than before. It is like an inkwell has been upended in the heavens. There are no clouds. The sun is gone, too, and so the sky itself seems to be radiant. I imagine that the sky is an enormous, blank, dark blue canvas, or perhaps a blue screen, and something is about to be drawn or projected up there. My mouth opens in astonishment and fear. I drop my basket to the asphalt. I have a vague sense that I remain surrounded by people, but for the most part I feel that I am totally alone beneath this towering sky.

I make out a thin, white contrail directly above me. I have to stretch my head back a lot in order to watch it. At first, the contrail moves across the sky as a straight line, but then suddenly it changes course in a manner that seems to be completely impossible for any human aircraft. This same contrail intersects itself several times. Soon, other contrails appear in the same vicinity of the sky. They intersect themselves and one another, and I watch the zigzagging contrails slice up the dark, blue sky with growing alarm.

The contrails are too distant for me to make out the aircrafts generating them, but deep in my mind I sense some sort of otherworldly origin. More alarmingly, the contrails are getting thicker, and apparently moving faster across the sky, and this tells me that they are getting closer to the earth. Whatever is up there is an invader, and I cannot believe the people beside me are not as glued to the sky as I am.

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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