In this dream I live in a house with a woman and a little boy. There is this sense that I am an older man.
The little boy is learning about electronic music.
He is talking about the various synthesizers on offer, and what they do, but is confused about which one he wants to try. I explain to him that it’s not about how expensive a synthesizer is, but whether or not it makes your sound, and that some producers were very protective about what lies at the center of their signal chain (which, an aside, is very similar to how DJs in the vinyl age used to white out the label in the center of the record so that trainspotters wouldn’t see what they were playing).
As I explain this, when there is an explosion in the distance.
It starts out as a slow-ascending column of smoke with glowering ash in the center but quickly turns into a grey wall that rushes forward, like a storm front. We run to get inside and just barely make it, as a wash of ignited air and dirt moves past the house, covering everything in a fine dust and turning the sky the color of fire.
Later on, we watch as the sky turns pale white.
Stupidly, the three of us go outside. The boy figures out that this pallid color of the sky and ground was due to the sun’s rays being absorbed by this fine dust, which hung, suspended in the still air.