Everyone has strange dreams sometimes, but I occasionally have dreams that are almost fully coherent stories, and often they’re interesting. I suppose it’s a bit like writing in my sleep. In fact, I’ve had some that I adapted into full stories. But because they’re dreams, the details fade quickly. So I’m going to write the one I had last night here, both for sharing and for retention.
I was a member of an archaeological crew on a special expedition. We were following up on a famous expedition from the early 20th century, in which two explorers had set out to investigate a set of remote ruins in a desert area that was constantly battered with sandstorms, and subject to extreme temperatures. Of those original explorers, only one had returned, reporting that the other man had climbed atop the structure and never returned, and was presumed dead.
In the century since, researchers observing satellite photography had begun to theorize that one part of the structure appeared to be newer construction than the rest of the ruins, and may have been built as a makeshift shelter by the lost explorer.
The crew I was working with included a materials researcher who had determined a type of cement the explorer may have been able to create using the specific type of sand in that desert. Our intention was to reach this part of the structure and determine whether the theories were correct, and possibly recover the remains of the lost explorer.
On arrival at the top of the structure, our materials expert confirmed that it did appear to be made of the cement he had expected, and the archaeologist on hand confirmed that it did not match the rest of the ruins, and was likely built in the 20th century. We carefully cut into it, creating a large opening in the small structure.
Inside, there was the lost explorer, approximately curled into a fetal position. His skin was taut, but he was remarkably well-preserved. Most of the crew then began retrieving various tools from their kits, as the plan was to return these remains to his heirs.
As I looked down at the corpse, its eyes sprung open.
“Umm, guys…” I said. “Did anyone else see that? His eyes…”
“Yeah, it’s just the change in pressure. Don’t worry about.” came the reply from another crew member.
Then his arm began to move. I thought I saw his skin rip, although I later realized it was only the fabric of the blanket wrapped around. Out of instinct, I reached down to stop him moving, and he pushed me off.
“Don’t touch me!” the dead man exclaimed.
Everyone was suddenly at attention.
“I don’t think you should move,” I replied.
“Preposterous. I feel fine.”
Someone else finally spoke up: “Sir, do you know what year it is?”
The man, now seated upright, only looked confused and worried.
“It’s 2019. You appear to be the world’s first living mummy.”
The man stood up and looked to the sky. We all followed his gaze. A large asteroid was cutting through the atmosphere. Much larger than your typical shooting star or fireball, the shape of this asteroid could be discerned with the naked eye.
“Oh no. This is all my fault. What have I done?!” the lost explorer cried out.
CUT TO: (My dreams often include dramatic cuts. I think this is normal.)
We’re on the road, headed back to civilization. The radio is on, but the reporting is frantic and hard to follow. Someone is talking on a handheld radio with another person who was meant to relay our findings to the lost explorers family.
After some difficulty, the message finally comes across. Every remaining descendant of this man was gathered in one place, anxiously awaiting the news of what we found. That place was ground zero for the asteroid impact.
Universal Studios, let me know if you want a new (new) take on the Mummy franchise. We can cast Brendan Fraser as the lost explorer and set this thing up as a sequel reboot moving him into modern day, a la Austin Powers (but slightly less silly).