Iraq Dream

Last night I had another in a series of unsettling dreams that involve my being taken prisoner, or otherwise harmed, in Iraq. They're pretty scary, and insofar as a dream can be taken as evidencce of anything, I really don't think I'd like being a soldier or guerilla.

This dream began at a fancy hotel/palace somewhere in LA. Something like a cross between Stary Grad Prague and The Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills. There was a gala event taking place that my whole family - with the exception of myself - was attending to mark the signing of some sort of peace agreement with the insurgents in Iraq and, by proxy, I think with the jihadist world in general. In James Bond fashion, this banquet, and the twenty or so others of its ilk taking place in major American metropoles, turned out to be a trap. As the waiters came out with covered silver platters to serve the politico-celebro-intelligentsia guests, they opened fire and bombs went off. In the way that dreams are often "shot" like movies, I was not in this scene, nor was the "I" in the dream aware of it, but the viewing "I" saw it. I remember Will wondering years ago how the narrative language of film affeccts the way we dream and see dreams. Other people have wondered this, sure, but I think that's interesting.

Cut to me in Portland - only it's summer. I can tell, because the weather doesn't suck. I'm living in a smallish bohemian bungalo next to a smallish bohemian cafe. Reminds me of a Portland version of Chris' little loft above the Spider place in Austin on Guadalupe. I was hanging out in shorts, drinking a lemonade, walking from the cafe to my house when a series of bombs went off in the city, visible even in the distance. Presumably this attack took place at the same time as the LA hostage-taking/murder, as two in a string of major jihadist offensives.

As often happens, the actual substance of what then happened I don't actually remember. Suffice it to say that I was taken prisoner, shipped off to Iraq, and spent the remainder of my dream being afraid of getting blown up by sundry dangers. I don't know whether I made it or not. But it did seem a lot like the end of the world.