Scattered Dreams & Dragonflies

My dream of the zoo

I found myself standing straight in line within a narrow corridor. Facing forward, I moved steadily in the same direction as the people around me. Light bustling noises and sporadic, nonsensical conversations surrounded me as I slowly took in the sparse scenery. The corridor's walls were a dark green, blending perfectly with the low-intensity light covering the area. As far as I could tell, I knew no one, so I stood in line alone, moving steadily with the crowd.

A few steps in, following the direction of the tightly packed line, I saw a poster on one of the walls. This was the first moment I began to understand my environment: I was in line at a zoo entrance. Before I could further analyze the poster, my concentration was interrupted by high-pitched laughter from a few people in front of me. I moved to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the culprits behind my distraction, only to find a familiar sign. I saw a green paw logo on the back of one of the girls' shirts, standing not too far ahead. Their conversations, like those near me, were not discernible—not because of the distance, but due to something else. Sounds felt more like static, yet laughter was oddly clear.

Amidst the sporadic, disruptive laughter of the girls, a thought came to my mind: "These girls have to be from my university." I recognized the logo from the campus I used to attend for my degree. I used to study animal science, so the feeling of being in line to enter a zoo began to make sense. The thought of being on my way to a job opportunity or training at this zoo also seemed plausible.

Despite the thoughts that plagued my mind, forcing my subconscious to perceive this as reality, I still stood there with little information about my surroundings. I didn't know the zoo, the girls with the university shirts, or anything around me. Then, as I remained in line, I saw the silhouette of a person approaching me from the corner of my eye. At the time, I recognized the man as someone familiar. Small in stature and wearing glasses, he stopped in front of me and addressed me by name.

"Chris," the man called to me. Now less than a few feet away, I had no choice but to believe he was addressing me.

"I need your help, please," the man pleaded kindly. Even if he was my boss, which seemed odd at the time, I didn't want to lose my place in line. However, the man, whom I identified as my boss, insisted that he needed my help. Still without knowing what I would be helping with, I obliged.

"We have a separate space to work, by the way," my boss said, without any clear reason. What I found even more interesting was the fact that I accepted this information without hesitation. My mind immediately drifted to his next request.

"I'll need you to leave the box of toys here." My boss, with a deeply saddened look, spoke to me.

At that moment, I remembered I had a box of toys in the back of my car. Although I didn't have a clear image of the toys, I was certain they existed in the back of my car, so I nodded.

As I walked back to my car, slowly heading towards the corridor's exit, I could only think about why my boss was so sad. What did the toys represent? Why did I have to leave the toys at our workspace of all places? Regardless, I continued my walk outside.

I emerged to see a beautiful sunset. It surprised me that even at this hour, now closer to night, we were still working and accepting people into the zoo. Turning around, I noticed the building from the outside. It had a fairly odd style, more questionable if you thought about it. The building was a giant white box with no signs, no way of knowing it was a zoo from the outside. Walking farther away, I expected to see open spaces, maybe a fence that would justify this as a zoo, a place where animals were kept in open spaces, regularly getting sunlight. But that wasn't available. At the time, I didn't question it and just continued walking towards my car.

I walked away from the building, surrounded by humid dirt-covered roads. Big white, box-style buildings around me occupied space in the area. I could feel the slipperiness of the muddy floor as I walked, almost as if it had just rained. To avoid slipping, I walked at a steady pace, firm yet slow. The parking lot was mostly separated from the enclosed zoo. Instinctively, I walked towards a giant rock-covered wall. Walking through the arched entrance, I started to see the parking lot.

Cars were scattered in every direction as I moved. In the distance, I saw what appeared to be a stadium. Like the other buildings, it had the same whitish color on the outside, but this one looked a bit different. The first thing I noticed was that it was the only building where you could see inside. It had a rectangular shape. The closer I got, the better I could see inside. The lights were turned on, further helping my visibility. The shape and inside resembled a sports stadium. Giant poles with lights pointing inwards could be seen, and from the edge of the stadium, empty chairs adorned the interior.

My car was parked in such a way that I could still see the inside of the building from an angle. I alternated my gaze between picking up the boxes and the overwhelming contrast of light beaming from the stadium. It truly could've been described as heavenly. The slowly diminishing light from the sunset only added to the intensity of the stadium lights.

Before I knew it, I had already picked up the boxes from the car. All I needed to do was take them back to my office in the zoo. However, that task would have to wait. A few steps in the direction opposite to my car and the stadium, I came to a sudden stop. Light tremors, alternating in intensity, could be felt all around me. I could see my car, as well as the ones nearby, slowly tilting. Instinctively, I let go of the boxes, placing them beside me to keep my balance. The tremors were so strong that at one point, I was unable to move.

In a matter of moments, I found myself looking upwards. I saw three sphere-like entities floating steadily in the air. They had emerged from inside the still brightly lit stadium and soon reached the sky. The image of what I saw could only be described as continuously morphing silver or metallic spheres. They alternated in shape, contorting between the images of a blimp, a plane, and indiscernible debris. They moved like particles within an atom do in cartoons or animated videos. The more I looked, the more I could discern the images of the plane and the blimp as they appeared along the constantly shifting patterns of the spheres. The three floating objects remained suspended in the air, using the reflection of the stadium lights to cast a myriad of random rays in every direction.

Needless to say, I was stunned. My eyes remained fixed on the floating objects. With the tremors now over, I could walk again, but my eyes would not relinquish their hold on the morphing objects. The last image I remembered was running as fast as I could, with the continuously morphing objects, bathed in light, chasing me from above as I ran towards the building I had just exited. The toys I had gone to retrieve from the car? Forgotten. The cars around me, the nearby buildings—everything but the one I had stepped out of—were slowly but surely being demolished by the constant debris thrown out by the floating objects. As I frantically ran, I managed to look back one more time before everything cut to black, leading into a new day.