Dream Journal: Storm’s A Brewing

Stupid Christmas season. I hate how it makes me all sappy. What is it about the holiday season that makes people all sappy? Probably the cold weather. What’s better than a warm body to snuggle up with. The twinkling lights, the shiny garland, the red and green ribbons, Christmas carols, scarves, gift boxes with every purchase, generosity, redemption, telling the truth, baked goods, etc. Bah-humbug. Just kidding. It’s my favorite time of year. Now, about that one Christmas wish…

Dream Journaling
Location: unknown, exotic locale
Time: dusk, storm brewing
People: hundreds, unfamiliar faces
Situation: trouble was in the air
Style: film noir on an acid trip

Walking along minding my own business, I realized that something bad and tragic was about to happen. I stopped and took a deep breath. A violent storm was brewing overhead not far from where I was standing. I could smell it in the air. The entire island was about to be tsunami food. Cut scene: I was transported onto this huge boat, hundreds of scared shitless folks surrounded me. Reminiscent to the Circle Line Ferry in New York used to take tourists to the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island. Being a Red Cross first-aid/CPR card carrier, I assumed position of sacrificing heroine. I was the hero, I knew I wasn’t going to die. I had to save these people. We were nearing the eye of the storm just has we were approaching Destination Safe Point. We docked and a few people were able to unboard. Then the storm pulled us back out and violently thrashed us about. Everyone held on and cried like they were saying their good-byes to the world. The driver of the boat was able to get the boat back to dock. I was near the dock and the man behind me told me to go. I said, with a symphony orchestrating soundtrack, “No. I can help.” I picked up this little girl and lowered her into this hole the width of an average adult. “Somebody catch her.” No response. I didn’t let go because I didn’t know how far the drop was. Finally, I knew that I had to go in with her. I crawled in and down a slide with a McDonald’s Playland appeal we slid. Passed glittering walls and huge Alice in Wonderland talking flowers. This is our safe haven? We’re not in Kansas anymore or anywhere of our own dimension in that case. The little girl was okay. She had dropped some important looking documents. I picked them up and read them. A receipt stating that she cost $188 and had one green-card carrying father purchased for $188 and a resident alien stepmother for $0.69. I knew at that moment that this information was not for my eyes. I walked around to examine this surreal underground world. It became rooms as I kept walking. A dollhouse. We were in a dollhouse. I was being followed. I kept walking to rooms that became other rooms. A maze. Until the only sounds I heard were my own footsteps and the faint ones of someone trying to go undetected. Until a firm grasp over my mouth from behind muffled my cry for help. I was wrestled to the ground. His hand still covering my mouth, his weight pinning me to the floor. He was searching for these papers, he thought I had in my pockets. “Where are they?”, he demanded. Just as the search was about to turn violent, footsteps were approaching. He menacingly looked at me in the eye before hastily jumping off of me and out the door. I screamed to let people know where I was. My first thought was that the little girl is in trouble and that I was the only one who could save her. My second thought was I was about to do some serious ass kicking. Then my cell phone rang and I woke up. It was Jun. He was on the train in San Francisco and he told me that he doesn’t remember dreams well. And here I am writing a novel on a five-minute dream.

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