It's brisk. How often do you notice the temperature when you're dreaming?
Wheat forever. From up here it looks like a carpet, this one burning. High above the world, not flying but tall on legs, spidery thin. High above the world and far below a gray sky. Not blue like you might hope. A gray that says something's a little off, a little dark, about this dream.
The smell of ozone and carpet shampoo. That new car smell, or is it old car smell baked fresh in the sun? Dust mites play in front of me, sunlight reflecting off their backs. They move about in front of me in some microscopic battle I can't quite make out except as tiny points of light. Dreams often take place in cars, this one is in a mini-van, but still it's not uncommon.
I see a corporate office park, it's vastness surrounds me. There's something on the radio about "fail-safes" and I see, heading downward, shallow on the horizon, a nuclear missile. It has a white trail behind it. It's not like it would be in real life. In real life you wouldn't see it or hear it. You'd just see a cloud of debris filling your vision or, if you're close like I am, you'd just be gone. Completely gone. In the dream I see a large missile. Several large missiles actually. All but one veering up and away. Disaster averted but for one. My last thought is a sardonic "of course." The missile disappears behind a glass office building I'm lost in white. I'm not breathing. Not suffocating. I don't need to breath. It's disconcerting. Everything suddenly is nothing save for me in it. This lasts for a moment as I sense time happening all at once and finally the universe collapsing. Waking at the point of death is one thing, but to dream of death is something entirely different. I've had this sort of dream before and, just as I have before, wake feeling a deep loss followed quickly by an indescribable joy at being alive even with death on the horizon.
I dream that I'm having sex with a short hispanic woman. She has a slight pot belly and enormous breast. She's inexperienced and nervous. She's wearing white and silver. A white dress made of a slick and stiff material, and a sequenced silver top with a sports bra underneath it. She's slowly taking them off while she straddles my leg but I stop her and we begin to dry hump. I wake up and remember her name and that she had a small mole beneath her eyebrow. I quickly forget her name as I start to realize it was a dream and not real, though I shouldn't say I realized. It felt more like forgetting that it wasn't real. She smelled like soap. I could smell it long after I woke up.