Trying to dredge up the memory of last night’s dream….
It seems I’d gone to another world with a large team of… fellow colonisers I guess? We didn’t go by space ship, but rather through something like a tunnel of energy like a worm hole. We knowing there’d be a habitable world awaiting us on the other side, but had no more information about it than that so we were basically plunging blindly and there was a high risk of running smack into danger of some sort. No one had scouted this before us. We’d simply been offered this portal as a means of escape when apparently our own world was in trouble of some kind.
We came out into a huge underground complex. It felt like an abandoned mall that had been carefully sealed up. Small apartments were interspersed among apparent shops among its many straight thoroughfares and quite a few winding small stone passages. It was mostly quite clean, but there were places where rubble had fallen from above and damaged some of the structures or simply obstructed parts of a thoroughfare.
It was a gloomy place, but there was no true darkness in it anywhere. There was phosphorescence of some kind all over everything so it was lit by pale green light.
The structures looked as though they’d been built by and for humans and there was much debate amongst us as to how human they could possibly be and where they all had gone. Didn’t see any written language off-hand though.
We came to a steel door with something like a black skull and crossbones against a red background above it. It looked like a vault door but all of my instincts were certain it was a passage to the outside of this world. I told my impression to the others and wanted to open the door. The others believed me without question, but no one wanted to open the door and they wouldn’t let me do it either. The symbol above it meant death as far as any of them were concerned, so they figured the atmosphere out there was probably toxic to us. I was literally shepherded away from the wheel in the center of the door that might have opened it and the more I struggled to reach that wheel, the more strongly they pushed me away from it.
I gave up for the time being. Figured I could open the door later when no one was watching me any longer and their guards were all down. For just as I was certain the door led outside, I was also certain we could survive there. Whatever had been bad there before had long since been neutralized.
Deeper in the complex, we split up to explore the buildings and examine the very human looking artifacts. No writing, but there was clothing and bicycles and tools, ect.
Each of us had backpacks containing enough water and dehydrated food to last us about a week, but of course there was concern about what we’d do for sustenance after that was gone so there was quite a lot of interest in finding such among these artifacts. Yet no such thing turned up.
As soon as no one was watching me, I drifted back to the steel door and turned the wheel. It opened with a loud CREEK and full spectrum daylight came flooding into the gloom.
Just as I was poking my head around the door, squinting against the brightness attempting to see what was out there, an old man’s voice startled me into next week: “Hey what are you doing there?!”
I turned. It was Agha, my cherubic Iranian late ex-father-in-law on a motor scooter… a little red Italian looking sort.
Happy to see him again and very surprised to see him here of all places, I smiled and waved him forward. “Look Agha! I was right! It really does go outside!”
He putted up on his scooter to get a look.
Neither of us could see well against the dazzling brightness, but it looked as though the complex continued a ways out there under open blue sky before fading off into dessert… but it wasn’t a hot one. It was maybe 70 degrees tops and there appeared to be some sort of scrappy vegetation out there.
We edged out into the open together. ‘Putt-putt-putt’ he went slowly beside me until I went into a small flat-roofed house and he stayed outside. There was a great deal of rubble on the floor, too much for him to drive comfortably around, but the house looked very human oriented.
In a very normal looking yellow kitchen, like one out of the 1950s, I found an unopened box of Velveeta cheese on the floor.
The thing about Velveeta is that in keep an incredibly long time if it’s sealed up. You don’t even have to refrigerate it unless you open the box.
I opened the box, pulled back the foil, and sniffed at the bright orange cheese within. It was good!
I brought the Velveeta out to Agha saying, “Look Agha! Velveeta!”
“What Velveeta?” he asked.
“It’s a kind of American cheese. It’s very good.”
“Still?” he asked dubiously, though his body language was saying more than that… like the fact that he didn’t care for American food, especially not our version of cheese and he was very afraid I’d insist he have some. He was certain I’d guess he was tarroffing (polite refusing) and just keep on insisting as he did once-upon-a-time when I’d refused to eat caviar (just salty slimy fish eggs to me).
“Yes it is!” I laughed. “Try it!” I broke off a piece for him.
“No, no Junam…” he began.
I managed to get some of the cheese in his mouth anyway and he was too polite to spit it out. Meanwhile, I was nibbling a little piece of my own.
“Hoobei…” (it’s good!) he said slowly and with considerable surprise. “Ba-ba-baaa!” (nom nom) he went on like a happy chicken.
I gave him more and then froze midway of closing the package.
Velveeta is an American product. American humans were here before us and apparently not long before. Where was here? And where had they gone?
And that’s all I remember.