disturbing...
Nov. 13th, 2003 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedarksiren2I arrived at work only to find myself sleeping on the break-room table at the Parma office. This is where human resources is, not where I really work. I looked up...people were everywhere, and there were donuts in front of my nose, my head still planted to my arms and slick with sleepy-drool.
I sat up slowly, pulling a large bag of foot-long chocolate eclairs from beneath my arms. As I opened them, I heard some woman exclaim how much she loved French Horns, and a man agreed: "Oh YEAAAHH!"
I looked around strangely, and decided to reach into my bag. Some man's hand was in it already though, and as I went to pull the eclair out, it was torn and shredded, the chocolate smeared with fingerprints. How could I eat this now? It was tainted, and repulsed me.
I put the food down and glanced across the room at a table where a television stood. As I sat watching the blue screen, people went back to work. After a little while, I realized I heard whispers and looked out the door to my right. Someone would tell on me because I was watching TV. My real-life logic tried to tell me I didn't, which confounded my dream-life personality because there I was, watching TV, and at work no less!
I stood up and told the air that I was going to get a resident's newspaper as I left the room. It approved, blowing by with a gentle laugh, and I walked outside, down a long driveway and to a mailbox.
For whatever reason, I reached down to the ground instead of into the mailbox and found an old, tattered smock.I looked at it, dirty and torn, old pink and white flowers fading. I thought it needed love and care, so I brought it back inside and showed it to Krissy.
We both agreed it looked incredibly familiar, and kept passing it back and forth, unfolding, examining, then refolding it and passing it back to the other. At some point, I realized whose it was, and no sooner did I say, "It looks like something Joanne might have worn," than I was outside, crawling on the ground with this smock, trying desperately to protect it from the water shooting out from the sprinklers. It hurt my skin, ice-pellets formed because of the cold. I thought I would buy a homeless man a blanket if this pain would just stop.
Flash-back inside. Krissy is going to wash the smock. I smell something strange and find Carl Fern cooking dinner. I stir a few things while he blathers on...he likes to hear himself talk, even though he rarely says anything LOL A ladle is pulled from a pot and reveals strands of bright red meat. The other pans begin to tremble, and they boil over. I tried to save them, removing things from the stovetop as quickly as I could. carl kept talking, oblivious.
Something about lamb meat and venison, neither of which I find appealing in real-life time. In the dream, it all needed saved, and I wanted to feed the hungry, the poor and needy, so I reached into the stove bare-handed, suffered massive burns to my arms and hands, and saved the meat.
Later, sitting at a fold-out table with nine or so homeless people, feeding them this feast, one man licks his lips and asks me what I did to my arms, now wrapped in bandages.
He said, "Not a good sign..." and laughed with brown and broken teeth. I looked around, and realized that I was to be desert.
resigned, I asked if anyone had any fava beans, and heard Joanne crying in the corner.
When I woke up, the first thought I had was wondering how she is, if she is still alive after living in a nursing home for nearly two years. I should go visit her this weekend, bring her McDonald's or something. I wonder if she will remember me through her Alzheimer's haze...
I hope she is OK.
I sat up slowly, pulling a large bag of foot-long chocolate eclairs from beneath my arms. As I opened them, I heard some woman exclaim how much she loved French Horns, and a man agreed: "Oh YEAAAHH!"
I looked around strangely, and decided to reach into my bag. Some man's hand was in it already though, and as I went to pull the eclair out, it was torn and shredded, the chocolate smeared with fingerprints. How could I eat this now? It was tainted, and repulsed me.
I put the food down and glanced across the room at a table where a television stood. As I sat watching the blue screen, people went back to work. After a little while, I realized I heard whispers and looked out the door to my right. Someone would tell on me because I was watching TV. My real-life logic tried to tell me I didn't, which confounded my dream-life personality because there I was, watching TV, and at work no less!
I stood up and told the air that I was going to get a resident's newspaper as I left the room. It approved, blowing by with a gentle laugh, and I walked outside, down a long driveway and to a mailbox.
For whatever reason, I reached down to the ground instead of into the mailbox and found an old, tattered smock.I looked at it, dirty and torn, old pink and white flowers fading. I thought it needed love and care, so I brought it back inside and showed it to Krissy.
We both agreed it looked incredibly familiar, and kept passing it back and forth, unfolding, examining, then refolding it and passing it back to the other. At some point, I realized whose it was, and no sooner did I say, "It looks like something Joanne might have worn," than I was outside, crawling on the ground with this smock, trying desperately to protect it from the water shooting out from the sprinklers. It hurt my skin, ice-pellets formed because of the cold. I thought I would buy a homeless man a blanket if this pain would just stop.
Flash-back inside. Krissy is going to wash the smock. I smell something strange and find Carl Fern cooking dinner. I stir a few things while he blathers on...he likes to hear himself talk, even though he rarely says anything LOL A ladle is pulled from a pot and reveals strands of bright red meat. The other pans begin to tremble, and they boil over. I tried to save them, removing things from the stovetop as quickly as I could. carl kept talking, oblivious.
Something about lamb meat and venison, neither of which I find appealing in real-life time. In the dream, it all needed saved, and I wanted to feed the hungry, the poor and needy, so I reached into the stove bare-handed, suffered massive burns to my arms and hands, and saved the meat.
Later, sitting at a fold-out table with nine or so homeless people, feeding them this feast, one man licks his lips and asks me what I did to my arms, now wrapped in bandages.
He said, "Not a good sign..." and laughed with brown and broken teeth. I looked around, and realized that I was to be desert.
resigned, I asked if anyone had any fava beans, and heard Joanne crying in the corner.
When I woke up, the first thought I had was wondering how she is, if she is still alive after living in a nursing home for nearly two years. I should go visit her this weekend, bring her McDonald's or something. I wonder if she will remember me through her Alzheimer's haze...
I hope she is OK.
