Level 7

MAY 5

Last night I had another ‘atomic’ dream.

I was standing with my parents on the corner of two streets in my home town. The sky above us was full of strange flying objects which, though they did not look like conventional aircraft or missiles, had obviously something to do with atomic warfare. I was watching with particular interest some big spherical objects which floated slowly through the air, surrounded by smaller, swift-moving machines with wings. I was not at all sure what these glittering little machines were doing. I had the vague impression that their swift flight around the big balls was for the purpose of protecting us from them, but my mind was more taken up with the spectacle which these various objects presented—they resembled a cluster of planets floating through space, each one with its satellite moons. But it was clear that this strange universe was man-made; it was too near the earth to be anything else. The big, apparently clumsy spheres—or were they just balloons?—moved slowly over our heads with the little winged objects circling them incessantly. Now they made me think of huge, ponderous bears surrounded by packs of small but alert wolves.

The sky was brightly lit—it was not clear what time of day it was—and as my gaze wandered farther out into space I noticed for the first time some white tracks in the blue, the sort made by jets at high altitudes. It was as if, while I looked, new forms of life were springing into existence above me. Perhaps ‘life’ is not quite the word, for I knew that the things I was watching were inanimate; but their movements made me think of them as living things. I was standing there staring at them, so fascinated that I had forgotten all about my parents and where we were supposed to be going, when all at once, with a suddenness which I recall with horrid vividness but can find no words to express, the whole scene was blotted out in a blinding flash of light.

I knew at once that an atomic explosion had taken place over our heads. The corner on which we were standing was rather exposed, and the nearest building big enough to offer any protection was a good fifty yards off. I dashed away towards it, shouting to my parents to follow, even though I knew it was no use. We might have done better to throw ourselves flat on the ground where we stood.

Next moment I was lying on the ground. I thought: ‘Now I am being killed.’ I knew it as a crystal-clear fact: my death was inevitable and occurring at that very moment. Yet my consciousness was still clear, and I summoned every mental resource in my effort to keep it so. It was purely mental effort, for I was aware of no physical sensations at all. The body seemed to have stopped feeling. But the mental effort was enormous—to be, to be!

Within that single moment of strain the problem of the immortality of my soul was folded. I was aware of it in my dream very clearly. But I also knew that the outcome of my fight would solve the universal problem of the immortality of the human soul. In fighting my own fight for survival, I fought for the whole of humanity as well.

I was still fighting when I came out of the dream. And I lay half-awake for some time, trying to decide what the struggle had meant. Had I retained my hold on consciousness after my body had been disintegrated, or had I woken before my physical destruction was complete? I could not decide.

After a while I woke up completely and gave up my philosophical meditations. It was time to attend to the more practical matters of today. But all day the memory of the dream has kept slipping into my thoughts.

Am I going to have any more ‘atomic’ dreams, I wonder? Can’t I look forward to peace of mind even when I am asleep?