A low and unsettling rumble

Last night I had I dream I was having a heavy conversation with a strange man in his kitchen, in some nameless farmhouse, set in some nameless rural landscape. I can’t remember what we were discussing, only that it was personal, and important– and that we were interrupted by a sudden sense of wrongness, and were both compelled to wander outside and have a look around. We walked across the field, over to the low skeletal remnants of a collapsed barn, and suddenly I could hear it– two sounds, in the sky, playing in hideous visceral stereo– a deep, choking motor sound– like a backfiring car with it’s bass turned wayyy up– and the sound of a too-close jet engine, revving and fading, erratically. I looked up, and saw nothing less than an enormous goddamn stealth bomber flying way too low, just above the trees at the edge of the field. It was circling us, but didn’t appear to be doing so on purpose– it’s left wing kept trembling, and flirting with a gesture of rolling, and inevitably crashing. I can’t describe how clear as day this appeared in front of me. The scale and pitch were perfect– it even had that little bit of fogginess (just the right amount) that comes from looking at objects through a bit of distance– I could even smell fumes in the air, as it circled in it’s wobbly, ever-descending trajectory. All the while it’s engines winding up into that dreadful high-pitched nazgul squeal, before fading again, and repeating. I realized that it was going to crash, and could very possibly land directly on top of me. The man I was with fled, to where I don’t know, and I threw myself into the meager shelter of the collapsed barn. Protection in there was almost non-existent, as it was just a few bleached logs strewn about in the grass, with only the smallest of indentations in the earth. I crawled underneath one of these logs, and tried to make myself as small as possible– just listening to those terrible sounds, swirling about over my head, getting closer, and closer, and closer…