#Dreams , dreamworld , and places that make you yell into the night.
Here I am, typing in the dark again and hoping I can get all of this out.
I’ve had delayed reactions to medications before. I‘m contemplating the possibility that one of the side effects of migraine medication is full length horror movie dreams? If so, I’m wondering if the migraine wasn’t preferable.
On the bright side (which I’m desperately trying to find at this moment), a dream like this one is the reason my book Atto Run was written. It was a full length movie-like substance, too.
When dream began, I felt as if there was nothing around me.
Now, I’ve been in a nothingness before, but not this nothingness. In the other nothingness, everything was peaceful, calm, safe, warm…perfect.
This nothingness seemed to be a roil of grey and white dots, where danger prevailed. It was like sinking into the quicksand toward a slow death. I began to scream out my daughter’s name, and scream and scream, and yet the 7 other people in the house couldn’t hear it.
Then, when I believed I was awake, another dream began within this dream.
I was walking along pathways at dusk, and came upon what appeared to be a village. It was just a group of people congregating together. They were trying to find ways to bring more illegal aliens in to the USA. It made no sense. After all, Trump was just elected. They were planning on secretly building a highway of tunnels deep under the Earth. A man in the background, middle-aged and congenial looking at first sight, gave orders in such a way that a person had to be very alert to notice the innuendos of nods, frowns and smile guiding the people as to what to say and do.
There, I met a man who was as unhappy as I about the possibility of more people pouring into a country that can’t handle what’s already here. Strange to say, it was as if we had always known each other, worked with each other and understood what had to be done.
But we were badly outnumbered.
We started making our way to the edges hoping we could sneak out and find another pathway to walk. One of the women began to harass me, trying to get me to hit her. I did nothing until she hit me. I hit back. The attack escalated until the man I was with had to hit someone.
Once they understood we were going to fight back and not run away like cowards, we were escorted out of town. We understood these people werern’t going to let us go so that we could tell others of their plans.
They were going to kill us.
I don’t know martial arts in real life, but in the dream I knew enough to start a fight our escorts, hold my own, and give the man in the dream time to use his extraordinary skills to rid us of them. We ran past trucks that looked like black bird cages on wheels, with engines so small they looked like they could only power a bicycle but strong enough to power a truck that could carry at 40 people as if they were chickens going to market.
The trucks were filled with women in brightly colored clothing.
I remember the thin black wire was strong enough to withstand a crash at high speed, and the way the driver sat in buckboard style seats made of the same wire, it reminded me of a horse and buggy used by movers at the end of the 19th century. There were several of these trucks leading away from a station and escorted by motorcycles.
You’d think people would notice the sight of neon-clad women packed into giant bird cages as the trucks ambled down the road, but no one seemed to notice.
We were able to follow the trucks, though I can’t remember how. It might’ve been one of those dreamworld things where you’re in one spot one second and then at another spot without knowing why.
We found men on motorcycles guarding compounds. I swear they looked like they were wearing mariachi band clothing, very bright with the wide-rimmed hats. They were so focused on bravado, motorcycle tricks, and daring each other to fights, they didn’t notice 2 people sneaking into the compound.
Once through an arched passageway, we saw hundreds of women, all wearing white feather outfits. They looked so much like angels without wings, playing, laughing, happy, free, had I not known their fate I might have joined them in their revelry.
They had agreed to come to this place to pay in exchange for their debts being paid off and an assurance that their families would live in a way they could not otherwise enjoy. They believed they were taken there for a higher purpose and accepted their confinement. We dug around the offices and discovered the truth about the place, that the girls would all have children that would be taken away (for which purpose I’m still not certain) and then the facility would burn into ashes with everything and everyone in it until no evidence of its purpose remained.
Strange how dreams are much more complicated than that, and yet we don’t remember the little things about it.
I remember that escape from that place included that congenial looking man who was so reassuing to the women. He took me aside, planning to quietly kill me, but in this dream, I knew how to kill him first . It required stopping the blood flow at three parts of his body.
I think I’ve seen Kill Bill one too many times (which might be funny if I hadn’t seen it only once).
The ending including an escape that led us to colorful cup cakes we weren’t about to touch (Yes, I was thinking “Jonestown Koolaid”). I remember that escape wasn’t easy, but can’t quite remember the details.
Here’s what I do remember.
This was only one such facility, inhabited for no longer than a year. They chose women forgotten by their families, or who had fled so that no one expected to ever see them again. Few questioned where they had gone, and none expected they would ever find the answer.
Our escape meant very little. We were well aware that there were thousands of thesw compounds worldwide, and their continued existence depended upon nations in constant turmoil, countries divided, and refugees continuing to flow into nations.
We were alive to tell about it, but who was going to believe us?
As the compound burned behind us, we managed to find a mode of transportation that looked a lot like a bicycle with a wheelchair tacked onto the front. Furiously, we rode away from the carnage, sort of like Get Smart in the 1950’s series where he’s barreling down the road in his desk. Then I was awake.
It’s hard to describe the emotions in this dream. As ludicrous as it may seem, when you’re in one of these tornadic monstrosities all you can feel is the danger…the uncertainty… the relief that you’re awake to tell about it, and the exhaustion from trying to survive to the end.
Was a secret message imparted to me in this dream. I have no idea. You can decide whether it’s a bizarre side effect of medication, pizza and hot chocolate, or a prophetic vision.
At this moment, I’m too tired to care.