I had the most amazing dream last night. It was like an SF movie.
I was part of the team on a mission to Mars. After an accident while touching down in the middle of a sandstorm, our communications with Earth were wiped out. Because of the orbits of the two planets, we couldnx92t begin the return journey for at least 18 months.
Stranded on Mars, alone in a claustrophobic spacecraft, and under intense stress, we gradually started to go insane—some faster than others. I began anthropomorphizing the Mars crawler that was programmed to explore the surrounding area; when it passed by, Ix92d talk to it. Meanwhile, one of my crewmates went off the deep end, and started hallucinating that members of the ground control team were here as part of a rescue mission. He decided that the captain was preventing us from launching for no good reason, raided the weapons locker, and tried to take over. The captain, meanwhile, was seeing Martians. They seemed friendly, and warned him about the mutiny. Towards the end, the captain managed to convince me that the Martians were there. We left the ship, running to what we thought was a Martian ship that would take us back to Earth. It wasnx92t clear whether it was real, or just a delusion. We were saved—or were we just finally retreating into a happy fantasy world, like Sam Lowry does at the end of Brazil?