I don't know what brought this on. Maybe it's the fever, mixed with the percocet I took last night to try to take away the pain from my lip. (The fever blister has turned into a swollen lip, looks and feels like I got punched.)
It starts off with me driving down the road in what feels like a mountain area. The road is narrow and there is a car parked almost in the middle of the road. I slow down and try to go around it, but end up hitting it. I back up a long ways, around a corner, and start driving back. My intention is to speak to the owner of the car, and as I pull up, sure enough, there are now a handful of people standing out there. At first I think it's because I hit the car, but then I look to the left where there's a lake, and notice a car sinking into the water. Not only that, but the car is not empty. The front seats are empty, but in the back sits a mother, her son, and daughter. Actually, the daughter is somehow standing on the edge of the car, mostly out of the water. They are all redheads, the girl being around 11, the boy, maybe 5. No one is acting like anything is wrong. I jump out of the car, run over, and help the girl onto dry land. She seems grateful. Now the car is almost under the water, so I dive in and manage to get into the car. I'm figuring it should be easy to pull the other two out and to safety. After all, I am an excellent swimmer. Once inside the car though, the doors won't open and the windows are up. The windows have the old fashioned window rollers, so I'm trying to unroll the window, but it's very hard w/all the water pressure. It's a slow process, and I can tell I'm about to drown. The mother and son simply sit there, as if resigned to dying. I finally open the window enough to wriggle out. I don't try to take anyone w/me. I assume that it's been so long, it's too late.
Next, I'm in a large building which appears to be some hellish combination of a college and my current job. I'm telling some people the story of the sinking car, when the little redhead boy comes up to me. He has a friend w/him and is telling his friend how I saved his life. He reaches out to me and I take his hand. His friend is telling him what a special friend he's found in me, someone willing to save his life. I feel good for a few minutes, but then remember that I didn't save his life. His hand feels all cold and clammy, and I begin to wonder if I'm holding the hand of a dead boy.
Last, and worst: My bf and I are lying in bed. He is trying to wake me up, saying that someone is knocking on our bedroom door. He whispers frantically, "It's Edgar Allan, what the hell could he want??" In the dream this made perfect sense to me, he was telling me that one of Edgar Allan Poe's nightmare creatures was visiting us. I was terrified but still having a hard time waking up. I woke up a little more and heard the knocking on the door. Someone/thing was in the house. My bf began crawling over me, trying to get to the giant knife I keep on my nightstand. "Wake up! Wake up!" He hissed at me.
And that did it. I woke up.
