I dreamt last night that earth had suffered some kind of catastrophe and all that was left of it was a long sliver of rock drifting through space. Somehow it had retained an atmosphere, and the remaining infrastructure was sound, but there were few resources – not enough to go around. It was a bleak circumstance, but the remaining population received it with a stoic acceptance – grateful, perhaps, at their unlikely survival to this point. No children were being born though, and at regular intervals segments of the population would ‘self euthanise’ (that was the term in the dream), so that by their sacrifice others may survive a little longer.
I was exempt from this. I seemed a scientist of some sort, or at least someone who might have an influence on the future. Hopes were pinned on me, and select others, that we might come up with a solution to save the world before it was too late. I was conscious of this, though not burdened by it. I went about, witnessing others prepare themselves for death, and observing the world with a keen and discerning eye. It was a dream laden with atmosphere.
And meaning too, methinks. It seems a pretty clear, though unusual, reflection of my own circumstances – in peril, on the edge, my world much constrained, but hopeful that I can find a way to survive. And up for the challenge.