White Peach
White Peach
In my dream I was with a group of people who were gathered in a place that resembled a resort area. There were very elaborate buildings that were tan and silver; very modern in appearance. This part of the dream felt very futuristic because of the way the buildings and scenery looked. Between the buildings were ornate gardens that were well manicured and had large concrete fountains and walkways.
I remember standing near a fountain with a group of people. We were assembled to discuss the current problem we were facing as a group. There had been some kind of disaster, the result of which was that we were running on generated power. The generator, however, was not functioning normally and could go out at any time. The discussion was how to find another source of power so that we could continue with our daily routine as best we could. The feeling was that we were struggling, though, and that we were living in a state of Marshall law. It was not negative, however, just tense.
After the meeting, I recall seeing the generator and realizing that it was not only failing but that it posed a threat. It was clanking and making a racket and was near the point of exploding. I could see a hose coming out of it. It was red and pulsating, throwing sparks off of it every once in a while. If it exploded then the entire complex would be destroyed. Others knew about this and were trying to keep it hush, hush because if everyone were to find out there would be hysteria. It was indeed a tense and very urgent situation.
I realized the need to clear the area and get as far from the complex as possible. Slowly groups of people gathered together and began the exodus out of the complex. I saw lines of people flowing swiftly along pathways out the main entrances. There were two, one on the West and one on the East side of the complex. I felt nervously anxious as I followed the groups of people toward an exit.
That is when the bombs hit. It was not the generator at all that was the threat. It was the enemy - an unknown aggressor who obviously was trying to gain full control of not only the complex but the entire region. I saw the line of people scatter, running and screaming as streamers of fire streaked through the sky and rained down upon everyone and everything. Large, black clouds of smoke rose from the impact areas and the smell stung my eyes.
I had been far enough away to escape the focus of the bombs. They were aimed at the exits, at the exact point where the people crossed out of the complex. I ran away from the exits towards what looked to be a road. A crazy man was running wildly towards me saying something unrecognizable. He tried to come at me but was beaten off by someone who was with me, though I never saw them. It was like I had a guardian angel with me.
At the road I saw cars trying to get out of the area. They were bumper to bumper and lights flashed at the intersection where they were stopped. I ran down along the edge of the road, seeing the traffic sitting there, unmoving. I suddenly was riding a bicycle and racing down the edge of the road away from the main complex and into a residential area. I stopped at a large, tan building with tall steps the color of sand. A man was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He was wearing a white uniform, kind of like a chauffeur's uniform, and was smiling.
My husband was suddenly with me (was he my guardian angel?) and he and the man in white knew one another. They greeted one another warmly. My husband asked him about how he had been and they exchanged quick summaries of the time they had been apart. The man in white escorted us up the stairs of the church building (I somehow knew it was a church). I looked down and to the side as we went up, surveying the surrounding area. I noticed that the houses that lined the streets had been damaged. Pieces of wood splintered off of them and some were nearly completely destroyed, their insides exposed. The side of the church building was also damaged but there were about 50 or so workers in white on scaffolding repairing the damage.
Inside the church we were taken into a room. My husband sat on a sofa and I joined him. The man in white brought out a barrel of peaches. He asked my husband, "Do you still farm?" My husband said, "Not since the war". In my mind I could see a peach orchard and knew that we use to sell peaches but had to abandon it because of the war. The man said, "I think you would find most of your peaches gone now if you looked". I realized he meant that desperate people were stealing them for food which was not surprising during war time and food shortages. The man gestured to the basket of peaches. Both of us took one. I looked it over. It was a normal peach. Light champagne in color and fuzzy. He said, "Eat it". I took a bite and it tasted funny. I cannot even describe how it tasted, but not like a peach. It was nasty, similar to taking a huge bite of dirt and sticks. I looked to the man who was intently watching my reaction. My husband had also taken a bite and was not finishing his peach.
The man then explained to us that the people behind the bombings had genetically altered the peaches in the barrel. They did this to control the population and had been doing it for almost 100 years. It started slowly, with minor genetic modifications to enhance color, taste and shelf life of fruits and vegetables. Over time, after the population had accepted the modifications without question, they began to "enhance" the fruits and vegetables in a different way.
"Those peaches", he said, "are some of those special fruits". He looked at us with a serious look and I began to wonder what he was implying. He then calmly said, "Those peaches were modified to make those that eat them less intelligent".
As the information sank in, I began to focus on how I felt. Did I feel any different? No. I looked at my husband. He was intently focused upon the man in white, seemingly unaffected by the peach he just ate.
Then the man's words hit home. Something about the peach lowered intelligence. Is that why in the past I suddenly found myself unable to complete sentences as I was speaking them? I began to speak to the man; to question him more about this intriguing information. When I started to speak I could not find the words I wanted to say. I could hear them in my mind but whenever I tried to speak them they would not come out of my mouth. It was as if I were mute.
I guess the small bite I took of that peach did indeed make me less intelligent. Well, it made me feel less intelligent anyway. I felt like a moron. Unable to finish my sentence, staring wide-eyed at the man in white.
The man in white gave me a tiny smile as if to confirm what I was experiencing.
What has happened to this world? I thought.
We continued to visit with the man in white. His church and others like his were working to help the injured and displaced. We were in what they were calling "district 5" which was made up of a large church building and some surrounding houses. The members of the church were repairing the church and assisting the local residents however they could.
As he was telling us about the other churches spread across the region I realized that the church organization was our last hope. They were the clarity in a sea of chaos. Unfortunately, I also realized that the aggressor also knew of the church and recognized its threat to them.
I suddenly felt like I was in huge danger. If I stayed in this church building I would die. Soon. Those who bombed the complex from which I just fled would certainly seek out and destroy all of the churches. This church.
Disoriented
This is where the dream ended. When I woke up, I was awakened by the smell of smoke. It was acrid and strong. It took me a while to completely wake up and realize that the smell was not real. I brought it back with me from my dream.
I was disoriented and alarmed. My guide immediately sent me calming thoughts and assured me it was okay. So, I tried to go back to sleep but all I could think about was the bombs and destruction from the dream. Was this a forewarning of something that will happen in my future? I hope not.
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