Two nights

Sunday evening I had my first "end of the world" dream in quite some time--at least that I can remember.
In the dream I am standing facing a large cyclone fence, beyond it is desert. Someone comes upon me from behind and reminds me of the date: 9/11. In the dream, the calendars are turned back and it is actually 9/11/2001.
The voice goes on, telling me that the world is about to end. I expect in my dream to hear large jet engines roaring overhead--real life intrudes on my dream, but instead there is a magnificent boom and a large mushroom cloud appears. The world goes jaundice. I can feel and see the dreadful dust working its way through the air. I am in a building with a small square window looking out on a young man. In an effort to meet with him and save him, maybe, I squish my body through the small window. He takes my hand and we run into the dust.
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In the next scene I am in a hospital room filled with boxes. In the bed beside mine is my husband. We aren't harmed, and neither one of us seems ill. We are going through boxes and looking at photographs. The mood is intimate and quiet. Suddenly my father-in-law barges into the room, he hands my husband a greeting card in an envelope. I am annoyed, as is my husband. My father-in-law doesn't seem to sense that he has intruded.
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Last night I dreamt that my dead aunt P is resurrected -- only temporarily.
I find her curled up on a sofa weeping. I sit beside her and touch her warm skin. She tells me, through hard sobs, that she is sad because in the few short years since her death her husband has moved on. She feels that her life on Earth has been forgotten. I don't know how to comfort her and so I only continue to stroke the warm skin of her arm. Her heartbreak is palpable.