A hard rain began to fall in the middle of last night.
I had been having a fairly unremarkable dream about touring a McMansion with a ridiculously large number of rooms, which recently had been redecorated. I couldn't believe it had a music room, and a play room, and a gymnastics room, all for the children.
When it begins to rain, I look out the window. I have a huge picture window that allows me a clear view up the very steep hill that we live on, and I can see that the house a few hundred feet above me on the hill is in poor repair. With all the storms we've been having, and the hail, there are large holes in the roof. I wonder why they have not yet been patched, or at least covered with a tarp. It looks dangerous to live there. The storm is breaking over us, the rain coming in violent waves. Aren't they getting wet in the rain?
Just then a ferocious crack of thunder makes a section of the roof cave in, and part of the walls begin to fall. A brick breaks away, slowly tumbling down the hill and narrowly missing my house. Oh, God! I wonder if they are OK up there.
I wonder if I should run up there and help my neighbors, and if so, what I can do. As I'm staring up the hill, with a phone in my hand, considering dialing 911, I can see a girl trying to climb out of the house, where dust is still rising from the rubble of the partial collapse of the roof and the wall. Bits of the house are still rolling away from the wreckage.
The girl manages to get up on top of the rubble, when suddenly she slips and falls. She starts to tumble. She hits a jagged rock and careens downhill. I stare, frozen, as her body crashes toward me. She lands directly outside my window, her bloodied head facing my way, her eyes open. I can see that she is barely a teenager. She's dead.
At that point, I realize this: when that disintegrating mansion falls, it will slide down the hill and completely obliterate my own house.
I wake up crying.