DAVENE: October 2018

Rapture - David Settino Scott 2018

It was 1984, and the party that started in the late sixties was still in full swing in the U.S.

The draconian society that we have devolved into since then was still far away: The oppressive police presence that is now common in our neighborhoods was unthinkable at the time. There was a sense of danger in life but, with that, there was also a feeling of freedom that we don't experience today. The internet wasn't even an idea for most humans; people still gathered in groups to socialize.

The cold-war was still going on and Americans had an underlying fear of nuclear war with Russia. Santa Fe, my little hometown, was only about 45 miles from Russia's prime target for nuclear attack, Los Alamos National Research Laboratory in the Jemez Mountains. Rumors about what might be happening at the labs swirled around among the people of the neighboring cities and became exaggerated.

In some ways, our society was even more divided than today: A growing subculture was still rebelling against the established old-school, war-economy mentality of the time. In addition to the fading hippie culture, people began to identify with other sub-groups. Punk rockers, new-wavers, rastafarians, low-riders, pachucos, and other groups loudly proclaimed their rejection of main-stream society values.

People were mostly high on cocaine, although the use of LSD, cannabis, heroin, and pharmaceutical drugs, was also common. Smoking was allowed in restaurants and on airplanes; trucks had gun-racks in their rear windows; driving without a seatbelt wasn't a crime yet. It was in this relatively lawless and chaotic climate that I had a profound dream:

I woke up before dawn to hear some kind of commotion in the street. Peeking out the window, I noticed people in the streets moving around and looking confused. I quickly pulled some clothes on and found my shoes. I turned on my radio while tying my shoe-laces to see if I could get any news about what might be happening but the airwaves were silent. I tried to make a phone-call but the line was dead. I grabbed my jacket and went outside.

Immediately upon stepping out the door it became apparent to me why everyone was freaking out: A string of multi-colored lights was dancing in the sky over Los Alamos: They left trails behind as they traced intricate geometric patterns in the skies to the west of Santa Fe. The beauty of the scene was indescribable. I instinctively knew what was happening.

I had been expecting it to happen someday...hoping for it at least. It seemed like alien or divine intervention was the only way humanity would be able to avoid extinction. Even if we could somehow avoid self-destruction, without the ability or the will to escape our planet's gravity-well, the eventual extinction of humanity was inevitable.

The fear and chaos in the streets was understandable. The narrow and fragile vision of reality shared by most of society had suddenly been destroyed. The religious were sure that the rapture had begun, and were terrified with the belief they would be punished for their sins; some people just lost and confused. Other people, however, weren't frightened or confused at all...

Here and there, amid the scrambling crowds, I observed a few people calmly looking around at the frightened masses; most were walking towards the hills on the east end of town. Amid the frantic drivers on the streets, I could see that there were a few cars that were carefully threading their way through the mayhem, toward the eastern hills. I walked around the corner and crossed the Santa Fe river, heading east towards the center of town.

I was feeling a sense of relief and joy--I had forgotten any worries I may have had the day before. A close friend who was passing in a vehicle saw me and pulled over,
"Hey Dave, need a lift?" he asked. "Thank's, Billy, heading east I assume?" "You bet!" He said, "...what a great day, eh?"

We headed towards the ski-basin road, enjoying the light show to the west and talking very little. At the top of the hill we turned left off of Artist road towards our favorite meeting place for sunset. We wound our way through the pinon trees down to the spot.

When we got to the place there was already a lot of people there and more were arriving behind us. We found a place to park next to some low-riders who had arrived just ahead of us. From the top of the ridge we had a perfect view of Los Alamos and the Jemez mountains. All along the ridge-top, to our right and left as far as we could see, were our fellow freaks. the hippy, low-rider, new-wave, punk rocker, rastafarian, pachucos, were all gathering for a party on the hill tops overlooking the light-show in the west.

We passed a pipe to our chicano brothers in the low-rider parked to our left and they offered us a forty-ouncer from their stash of beer. Together, we all cheered and hollered as the light-show over Los Alamos increased in it's intensity. It seemed like we all shared a feeling of well-being and relief at the arrival of mankind's benefactors--all our worries; prejudice, hatred, and fear were gone; only understanding and love remained. Things were about to change on planet Earth in ways we could only begin to imagine.
Down below, in the streets of the city, was a very different scene. The "normal" people of society: The squares, the straights, the control freaks, the greedy, psychopathic vampires of society, were running around in terror. Some were looting: Trying to grab whatever they could in a last, desperate attempt to get the better of each other. Some were killing each other: Venting their hatred against each other even in the face of their own supposed doom. Fires sprang up across the city. Gang fights erupted and houses set on fire. For some reason these people weren't capable of seeing that all they needed to do was climb the hill to get out of the mess in the streets, or perhaps they didn't want to: Feeding off the hatred and fear, they were fulfilled somehow. The idea of climbing the hill just didn't occur to them.

Safe on our hill-top the party continued. Although we felt sorry for the people in the streets, we knew there was nothing we could do for them. They would have to find their own way up the hill if they wanted to escape the horror below.

When I woke and realized I had only been dreaming I had a feeling of great disappointment. If you have ever had a vivid dream, you may know what I am trying to express. The elation and ecstacy of the dream is contrasted by the dull reality of life, upon waking.

It was a really profound dream and I have never forgotten it. Perhaps my dream is a good illustration of our irrational belief in a beneficent god or super-intelligent alien race that is watching over us and will step in at the last minute to save us from our own stupidity. I have abandoned such self-deceptive optimism. There is no magic answer; no magical beings or spacemen who are going to come save us. From what I can see, our isolation in this remote part of the galaxy is extreme. If we want to survive as a species we are going to have to solve our problems on our own, and we had better do it quick.

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Upon waking from the dream the stark reality of the loneliness of our species is not an easy burden to carry.

-David Settino Scott, III