I Was Asleep—I Was Dreaming

I don't recall dreams as much as I once did. I think it's because a) I don't get enough sleep, and b) I wake up using an alarm and therefore I'm waking up during the wrong cycle required to remember.

Saturday last, I woke up during the right cycle, after being afforded the opportunity to sleep in for a change.

I found myself being flown into (via Helicopter) what appeared to be a post Apocalyptic city. It was mile upon mile of  midrise apartment buildings that were burned on the outside. They weren't falling down, some glass was missing. It was if they all caught fire, but the fires burnt out before the fire reached the interior.

Once I was on the ground though, it appeared that the buildings were scorched inside and out, but not enough to compromise the structural integrity (for the most part). Every surface was charcoal black—and fractured. Some interiors seemed to be more in tact than others.

This is when I noticed I was in a Suit and Tie—and a name badge was fastened to my pocket (It's been a long time since I had a missionary dream). A name badge much like this one. There were quite a few of us that exited the chopper. My wife was among the crowd, but we were not paired up as a companionship which struck me as odd only after I woke up.

We scattered in different directions, and we were moving fast as if our lives depended on it.

After a time I was able to ask a uniformed person (soldier, or peace officer—I'm unsure which), "What caused all this?"

He rattled off a list, "Death, destruction, corruption, prostitution, drugs, crime...you name it."

The next thing I remember was going door to door. For some time there was no answer. When someone did answer, we found ourselves surrounded by a gang and guns were involved. No shots were fired, and I stood boldly—they believed we were there to help.

I recall teaching a discussion in a building that was severely scorched on the exterior, but was relatively unscathed inside. The lesson was taught to a large group of men and women. One woman in particular was interested, but scared—at some point I was speaking to her as she bussed tables in an empty ballroom next to a swimming pool.

I meant to write about this days ago—you know how details of dreams fade over time unless you make note of them. Perhaps my wife can remind us of any details that I've forgotten since I told her about this dream.