dream journal time
08.18.06 Dream:
I was part of a motorcade of stunt drivers for a traveling show (I watched 10 hours of Carnivale last night.) There were a couple families with us and a few very small children within them. We traveled to our next town and discussed who should hold up one of the stunt driver's little girl in front of the audience and explain that she might not have her mother by the end of the night. We did this to instill some fear into the audience so as to up the excitement of the trick the mom did. Someone suggested me, but the leader said no because it might get too personal for me. They settled on some guy that was a friend of the family. We set up camp and waited for the night. The audience packed the rickety bleachers we took from town to town. The announcer started into the act; told the guy to hold up the little girl for the audience to see. Just as he was finishing, the mom's car burst out of a paper banner and flew through the air. I really don't know what happened except that my view changed from the arena to where I was. People around me started to panic about the little girl. Everyone ran toward the bathroom because we heard that's where she was taken. Some of the workers were getting in fights and blaming each-other for the little girl's fate. A man in a speed wheelchair and I were raced to the bathroom, fighting with each-other. He explained that the leader had not let him hold her up because he was black. He wasn't black, but he looked Hawaiian to me. I managed to push him into the wall a couple times to try to intimidate him. He did the same to me. Once I accidentally pushed him at a really poor time which caused him to hit his head on a sharp corner. I apologized and told him I really wasn't trying to hurt him.
We came upon the bathroom slowly. None of us wanted to see it too quickly. It was the kind of outdoor bathroom you'd find at a beach. We crept up on the door opening and could see the inside tiles. I looked down and a trash can full of bloodied pieces of tissue came into view. The blood amount was low on that first bunch. The trash can to the left was filled with tissues as well-but they had more blood on them. We knew she was dead and no longer there when the third can came into view. The tissues contained within were mostly red and hardly any tissue. Other people were in the bathroom. We didn't know them and they weren't affected by the piles of bloody tissues. While looking at the blood I had a vision of me holding the girl up and weeping while the announcer did his job. I chalked that up to his correct assessment of my personal affect by the speech. Upon waking, I wasn't sure what had happened. Now that I write it out, I think the mom's car hit the little girl while she was held up in the air. The mom lived. She was the one taking care of the girl in the bathroom.
That was so heavily influenced by Carnivale, it's silly.
I was part of a motorcade of stunt drivers for a traveling show (I watched 10 hours of Carnivale last night.) There were a couple families with us and a few very small children within them. We traveled to our next town and discussed who should hold up one of the stunt driver's little girl in front of the audience and explain that she might not have her mother by the end of the night. We did this to instill some fear into the audience so as to up the excitement of the trick the mom did. Someone suggested me, but the leader said no because it might get too personal for me. They settled on some guy that was a friend of the family. We set up camp and waited for the night. The audience packed the rickety bleachers we took from town to town. The announcer started into the act; told the guy to hold up the little girl for the audience to see. Just as he was finishing, the mom's car burst out of a paper banner and flew through the air. I really don't know what happened except that my view changed from the arena to where I was. People around me started to panic about the little girl. Everyone ran toward the bathroom because we heard that's where she was taken. Some of the workers were getting in fights and blaming each-other for the little girl's fate. A man in a speed wheelchair and I were raced to the bathroom, fighting with each-other. He explained that the leader had not let him hold her up because he was black. He wasn't black, but he looked Hawaiian to me. I managed to push him into the wall a couple times to try to intimidate him. He did the same to me. Once I accidentally pushed him at a really poor time which caused him to hit his head on a sharp corner. I apologized and told him I really wasn't trying to hurt him.
We came upon the bathroom slowly. None of us wanted to see it too quickly. It was the kind of outdoor bathroom you'd find at a beach. We crept up on the door opening and could see the inside tiles. I looked down and a trash can full of bloodied pieces of tissue came into view. The blood amount was low on that first bunch. The trash can to the left was filled with tissues as well-but they had more blood on them. We knew she was dead and no longer there when the third can came into view. The tissues contained within were mostly red and hardly any tissue. Other people were in the bathroom. We didn't know them and they weren't affected by the piles of bloody tissues. While looking at the blood I had a vision of me holding the girl up and weeping while the announcer did his job. I chalked that up to his correct assessment of my personal affect by the speech. Upon waking, I wasn't sure what had happened. Now that I write it out, I think the mom's car hit the little girl while she was held up in the air. The mom lived. She was the one taking care of the girl in the bathroom.
That was so heavily influenced by Carnivale, it's silly.