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Cold Barren Wasteland
#1
I was in class, and the teacher was a young woman asking us tough riddles. She started talking about the future and began feigning a Russian accent as if to hint Russia would play a key role in things. She then transported me to the future to glimpse the conditions. I was outdoors during day time, it was cold and windy and dry and the ground was hard brown dirt. There were piles of rubble everywhere but no visible city. A few silent homeless people in rags were shuffling about slowly. One was gathering a bundle of twigs for firewood; the twigs were dry and snapped easily. He threw them into a niche in the rubble to attempt to build a fire with. I walked a short bit and looked around. From here to the horizon was a barren wasteland; the ground had no greenery, was largely tan colored earth in rough chunk like the furrows of a ploughed field but hard like dry mud. There were remnants of the bottom of tree trunk and snapped off telephone poles sticking out of the ground, and scattered rubble. The trunks and poles were all tilted in the same direction like some 300 mph wind or massive tsunami had swept through and scraped away most of civilization here. Later in the dream there was an enclave of well-off survivors who numbered severl hundred, and who lived in a sealed compound under rigid rules. They looked down on the homeless vagrants out in the rural areas and occasionally rounded some up for menial use within the compound.
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