The first was when I was 5 or 6 and purple slime monsters flooded my grandparents house with purple slime, and I was perched on top of the wood stove scared out of my mind while the monsters swam around the room.
Last night, the second...
There was a big storm, and there was flooding everywhere. (What's the deal with me and floods?) There were 10 foot tall waves in my back yard, and many grizzly bears looking in the windows of the house quite viciously. It was scary and awful, and it went on forever, and people were almost killed in one scenario after another.
Fast forward to morning... water gone, drained away, houses just fine like nothing ever happened (the floods never came in the night before - they were just outside somehow)... There were dead or almost dead large animals everywhere - deer, mountain lions, antelope, etc., and there were people everywhere cleaning up their remains.
Brooke (my oldest daughter) ran out to the sidewalk, looked at me with a smile on her face, started to say something, and was whisked away in an instant, as if she had been hit by a speeding train. One of the grizzlies from the night before had grabbed her head in his jaws as he ran by, and ran down the street, into another house. It was gruesome and awful and heart wrenching. I can still see it clearly - the terrified look on her face, looking into my eyes as he ran, her head sort of distorted and mangled, and her body just hanging there.
The family down the street (in the house where the bear went) was disturbed and disturbing... They reminded me of something out of deliverance, or maybe that nasty slasher movie I sat through part of a few years ago where those kids truck broke down in the middle of nowhere in Australia and that guy tortured and killed them. (That was an AWFUL movie) Anyway, the bear that took Brooke was one of their minions, somehow. They kidnapped children, and did strange things. I asked them to give Brooke back and they laughed, and told me they planned to sell her around New Years, so maybe I could buy her then. The people that had been everywhere cleaning up the carcasses before forced their way inside these people's house, and demanded Brooke. The adults in the house wouldn't speak. We went from room to room searching, but couldn't find her. There were small, strange, dirty children everywhere, and finally one little girl asked me if we were looking for her new sister. She told us that she was in "the other bathroom" upstairs. We hadn't found stairs. More frantic searching, and we found a staircase behing a closet by the front door. I ran up the stairs, and entered a hallway with 4 strange small doors. They were wider than standard doors, but about 4 feet tall. The first one I tried was the bathroom, and there was Brooke, unconscious in a bathtub full of bags of ice. She was wrapped in plastic except for her head. I pulled her into my arms, and her whole body was cold, so so cold.
I remember looking down at her ice cold toes, in shock, and then I woke up, 2 hours early. I couldn't shake that picture, that feeling, holding my childs ice cold body, wondering if she was alive, if she would make it. What a great way to start a day.
I hate dreams.