This morning, I dreamed that our only President announced on national television that he was planning to initiate a first nuclear strike against the people of Iran sometime in the next week. I don't remember what had happened in the dream before that, but the rest of the dream was spent packing in a panic in order to run off and hide in the wilderness for the next ten years or so. (We were planning to head toward the Southwest, because in the dream, I had recently read an old paperback book by someone who claimed that he had discovered the long-lost directions to find the way to a secret stronghold that had been constructed in a canyon there in the 1920s by some foreign potentate who was executed before he ever had a chance to use it. We figured that even if the book was bunk, sandstone canyons are pretty radiation-proof, and the Sonoran's great for subsistence living.)

Damn it! I was six when the Wall came down; I'm supposed to belong to the generation that grew up *not* constantly suffering from nuclear anxiety dreams. We're supposed to be *past* that, my dear Human Race. (And yes, I'm allowed to cuss while talking about nuclear annihilation. Actually, the neatest bit of the dream was probably when the speech went out over CNN - it was the "Oh shit*" heard round the world! The POV even zoomed out, so I got to hear six billion voices cursing in unison, and then a shocked silence...)

So anyway, I'm off to re-pack my "in case of sudden end of civilization" emergency bag, and then I'm going to call enemy_anime and see if he wants any sewing help, unless he replies to this entry first.