I dreamt that I was somewhere on the West Coast and happened upon a plot to use a local high school as a place to detonate a nuclear bomb.  As often happens in the movies, the bomb was on a timer; but the plotters had changed their mind.  However no one could stop the timer and so we had only 30 minutes to get as far away from it as possible.  On foot!

 At any rate, we found a house about the time of the explosion, then seeing the usual mushroom cloud, from behind the trees, all of which would be gone momentarily. The dream concluded before the blast wave hit—probably beyond the capacity of the human mind to visualize.  After that I replayed the scenes on and off going in and out of a lighter form of sleep.

The tone was that of personal and group guilt.  There was an unspoken collusion the details of which are obscure in the dream.  But I think if there is basic theme to my Dad’s essay, it would be that of collective responsibility, as opposed to the old warrior ethic where it was the individual with the biggest sword and largest bicep that clawed his way to the top.  But as he has said more frequently, my Dad likes to point out that you or I are just as dead by an arrow as by a nuclear weapon.  To him, the numbers may be moot once a person is actually dead.  Solomon said as much in Ecclesiastes.