Dreams – 6/28

I’m underground, huddled with a group of 20 or 30 other people. Mostly families. People are shouting in confusion and panic. Men are reassuring the women, the women reassure the children. I’m alone with no one to comfort. The image becomes clearer that we are underneath a building. Below the foundations, in a dark pocket of earth.

Someone is shouting orders that we all need to get back. Get back. Get back. As the crowd moves, flashlights illuminate a small pool of water. An underground lake. As we cross the lake, a dock comes into view. People begin lifting themselves onto the dock and pulling others up to them. I’m worried that my backpack is getting wet. Books, writings, electronics, all are soaking by now. Ink is running off pages. I’ll have to buy a new cell phone.

Over the noise of the voices I hear something about a bomb. The building above us is wired with explosives, and someone had the bright idea to move everyone underneath the mass of steel and concrete. We were ushered into our own grave. The shouting of the crowd grows louder as I dive back into the water. I cross the lake and trudge up the muddy path back into the tiny pocket. I want to witness the explosion.

I’ve been followed back across the lake. Men pass me to meet others at the entrance of this murky hole and lead them to the safety of the dock. I stand and stare as the last group of people make their way through the entrance and down towards the lake. It suddenly occurs to me that I need to photograph the event. I turn around and run back to the lake. A pass of a flashlight reveals my backpack floating on the water.

As I begin swimming out to retrieve my camera, I notice that the lake is still being traversed. The few remaining families swimming out to the dock. A little girl, no older than four years old, is crying something awful as she clings to her mother’s shoulder. I find my backpack and fish out my camera. I’m not even sure if it’s still in working order.

By the time I get back to the entrance the explosion has already gone off. I don’t remember hearing it. I’m caked in dirt and dust from the shockwave, and I see flames up ahead. I begin snapping pictures. People are screaming from across the lake. The surrounding walls of dirt begin to quiver and fall apart, and I can hear the building crashing down. I continue walking, slowly, all the while snapping pictures.

I’m standing in the flames now. Right in the middle of the flames. I feel the heat, but no pain. My camera is still working, and I’m still taking pictures. There’s nothing to see but fire and smoke in every direction, and I’m still taking pictures. The fire does not burn my skin. The smoke does not fill my lungs. The camera should have melted in my hands minutes ago. I’m immune. And I’m still taking pictures. I can no longer hear anything. Not the screaming of the families, or the rumbling of the fire, or the destruction of the structure above me. But I keep on walking, and I’m still taking pictures.

Photo Source: ksnapushka

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