Perhaps it was the fact I was host to something like five children overnight the other night, but I dreamed I lived in an enormous glass and concrete multi-level structure with long, sweeping ingress and egress ramps, and wide, curved hallways with polished white wood floors, sitting atop a breathtaking vista.
Myself and my children, along with their three friends were alone in the house when an enormous once-in-a-century size storm formed and began heading right for us. I could see the ominous clouds in the distance, growing stronger and more violent as it approached; not your average dark clouds, but massive, miles-wide supercells forming far in the atmosphere, circling and lowering.
Deciding to seek shelter in the detached house several feet away, I corralled the children who seemed oblivious to impending doom and we ran up the concrete path to the similarly architectured smaller house - which housed bedrooms and offices. Just making it, the violent storm hit, then passed, but we were far from danger. Much to my increasing terror I watched what looked like a supersized Star Destroyer (which honestly surprised the hell out of me not knowing they existed in our solar system) very slowly crash, nose first, into the valley below, narrowly missing the house we were in. Slack-jawed I stared at the impact, the front of the ship already exploding in a devastating fireball, being unable to look away yet knowing the concussion of such would surely kill us all when it hit. I put my arms around all the children and we took cover.
The house was engulfed and shook and screamed with a furious vengeance for several long moments, bu miraculously, we survived. The wall of glass windows didn't even shatter as I had expected and I suddenly felt sad for those in the area who weren't as well off as I was, for surely they had no such structure in which to shield themselves. And yet I couldn't place what it was which had come crashing down from space in slow-motion. I knew it wasn't actually a Star Destroyer and kept trying to compare the configuration of its thrusters with anything in my database of knowledge.
Making our way back to the main house down the path, I could hear the in-home air raid siren alerting, and once inside started checking all the rooms. Much to my own embarrassment I'd forgotten we had a secure, hermetically-sealed bomb shelter in the lower level of the house. I pressed the release button and four interconnected olive drab metal doors with Plexiglas portholes lifted up with the pneumatic whine of strong hydraulic lifts while amber flashing lights rotated on each side of the massive door - a stark contrast to the smooth, neutral interior walls.
Peering into the well-lit hallway and seeing no one emerge, I closed the door. Shortly thereafter the siren quieted and the doors re-opened, revealing our maid who'd deemed it safe to emerge only after the siren declared the emergency over. I marveled at her poise.
Then it was back to the other house up the path, again with all the kids in tow. We'd just made it into the master bedroom when something organic attacked the outside of the house. The children scattered and I jumped under the covers with a lady friend who had somehow just appeared and was mortified to find my father sitting in the chair adjacent the bed I was in with his best friend half-asleep on the couch. They'd been watching television.
The yellowish-orange tentacled beast attacking the house broke several windows as it tried to squeeze its way to us, but eventually left without any trace of itself. Dad and his best friend went beneath the house to the parking garage and drove out in a metallic green Jaguar - I was monitoring their progress from a bank of black and white closed-circuit cameras.