I could do. Without. The fucking. Nightmares.

I didn't go to bed last night until nearly 1am. At about 6, I started having these nightmares (morningmares?). At 8:30, I finally gave up and got up.

No need to read further unless you enjoy reading about disturbing dreams. I just need to put them down somewhere so that hopefully they'll go away.

#1: I'm watching a television monitor along with about a dozen other people. I don't recognize them now, but in the dream they were my co-workers. There is a satellite image; one can see the North American East Coast. New York state... explodes. Its coastline looks orange around the edges, with cracks creeping inland, like fresh lava. Then the same thing happens to Florida. To Maine. South Carolina. Virginia.

I think, Home... Why aren't I dead? and remember that I'm not there.

It gets worse. The entire coast snaps like a sheet being spread. There's a huge ripple, visible from satellite, that spreads westward. It stops as it reaches the Midwest. I don't know why.

People are crying and saying the kinds of crazy-stupid things that people say when they're in shock. "All our best people..." No one could have survived this.

Except... The television view changes, and now we are seeing people walking out of the smoke and fog of ruin. They are all moving the same way - toward the ocean - and they are moving slowly. Calmly. Just walking, not carrying anything. Ev'ielandaron's Curse, I think in horror. (It's a thing from the novel - Ev'ielandaron was a mage who raised the dead to be his army.)

I feel cold. "Where is Matt?" I look around the room, but he isn't there. I grab someone who I'm sure knows where he is. "Where is Matt?" The man looks shamefaced, and I feel worse than cold.

"See... We needed a test for the last of the directional HHT readings," he begins. He continues, but I don't hear the rest. Matt was there. Matt was in that horror. Tears run down my face as I turn back to the monitor, looking desperately for an undead with a long blonde ponytail and a brown duster...

* * * * * * * * * *

#2: It's a weird thing you can do in dreams - look both from your own eyes and view the entire scene from another angle. My secondary angle on this one is from the ceiling. It's the angle you see in movies when you're supposed to understand that the subject is feeling abandoned and hopeless. The scene takes place in a narrow hall, or perhaps a bathroom, lit in flickering fluorescent lights, a sickly green lens over the camera.

I am huddled on the floor, my arms over my belly, when the social worker (?) finds me. He stands and looks for a long minute before speaking.

"You're fat. That's good."

"I'm not fat," I say dully. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh." He processes this for a long time. "An enemy baby, then. That's... good."

This wakes me up a little. "No. My husband's baby. I was pregnant before the enemy came."

"Oh. Then why am I here?"

Matt is not coming back. He died and walked into the mist. Months ago. Years. I don't know. I haven't had the baby. I haven't even gotten bigger. "I... I guess I'm ready to move on."

"Oh. That's good."

This is the point at which I realize this is a sequel to the first dream, and I force myself awake.

* * * * * * * * * *

#3: Matt and I are together in this one. I dimly think, Thank goodness, before the hint of lucidity fades. We are in a crowded shelter of some kind. Everyone around us is tired and shellshocked and filthy. We are no different. We cling to each other for comfort.

My name is called - it is my turn to go through the registration process. I kiss Matt and walk away with the bearded man. He hands me a change of clothes and waits outside the bathroom while I change into them. When I am done, he comes in and shaves the left half of my head.

"Is there anything the doctor should know?" he asks kindly.

"I'm pregnant."

The kind face becomes stern. He's trying for a fatherly expression that doesn't quite fit. "I know things are crowded in here, but... Well. You'll get a lecture later on responsibility and-"

"I was pregnant before," I say hotly. "We were responsible. My husband and I both had good jobs!"

The kindly look is back. "Ah... So he was going to provide-"

"I was going to provide. We both were."

"Hmm." He fills out some paperwork and gives a copy to me, then sends me back to the crowded room to wait my turn with the doctor.

Matt still hasn't been processed. He touches the close-shorn hair on the side of my scalp, then hugs me very tight. "Are you okay?"

"Yes... We're going to get a lecture about responsibility, I think."

He looks angry and starts to say something. I am too tired to maintain my own anger. "There's nothing we can do. Don't make a scene. I don't want them to separate us."

He still looks unhappy, but doesn't say anything else. Instead he kisses me.

A measure of lucidity returns. I do not want to combine this with an erotic dream. That would only make it worse. I wrench myself awake.