Talk About Being a Dreamer

It's been a long time since I tried to intentionally recall my dreams; even longer since I grabbed a pen as soon as my eyes opened. Took going to the bathroom to bring this one back.

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It was post-apocalyptic, and I was working in some kind of building. The building had something growing in it--mold, maybe? Or something similar. There were four walls covered in something black and toxic.

I was working with 4 guys and 1 girl, though I don't remember much about them. One of them looked like a co-worker of my husband's, and I feel like I recognized the girl, though I can't recall her face now. My dad was there in a different room doing some kind of military thing with the co-worker guy, but I didn't know what it was. There was a radar set up in there for something, though.

I was working on some kind of big neon orange rectangle, like almost twin mattress-sized, and very light. Reminded me of the kind of material they make flotation devices out of, only thicker. There were velcro flaps on it, and I was attaching them.

As I was doing this, I was discussing things with the other people I was working with. Either myself or the older black guy I was working with said, "There are already two of us dead. One of us is going to die from this," talking about the exposure to the toxin.

I remember being on the floor velcroing after that, and I said, "Yeah, my mom didn't want me to come, but I told her, 'any job I take now is going to be just as dangerous. At least this way I'm closer to home.'"