Last Night I Dreamt

I was standing with my mother on some sort of vacation and we watched a big, bland-looking white-painted concrete apartment tower come crashing to the ground.

The moon ducked behind the horizon just before the dust cloud punched into the sky accompanied by the rolling and thunderous explosion of air and plaster. It was as if some giant hand had squeezed all of the life out of a giant plastic bag. Only this plastic bag was full of people and furniture and television sets.

We ran to escape the falling debris but doubled back to make sure the Camry was alright. Our priority was to check on our vehicle.
There is something so terribly wrong with this idea.