(no subject)
I vaguely remember being at some sort of medieval fair (that is, a fair within the Renaissance days). I'm in some kind of seahorse race (they were like mer-horses), when I see a tall young man with curly blonde locks; he's turned to the side, looking contemplative. Suddenly, he's watching the race by the finish line (a fence post at the edge of the water). My horse takes a leap and lands in first place, simultaneously splashing the boy as we slide into first place. I slam my eyes shut in fear of hitting the fence post.
Suddenly, I'm Juilet. Romeo and I are on some floor engaging in some seriously passionate "love-making," for loss of a better term; for some terribly disturbing reason, my parents are watching? Anyway, we resemble the two actors in the 70's version of "Romeo and Juliet."
Now I'm my present self, though the reincarnated Juliet. My school has been turned into a concentration camp, and I, with the rest of my friends, have been captured. I'm dashing from gym to gym (where the clusters of people are being held) in desperate search of Romeo. Finally, I reach the last gym and dash up the bleachers.
"Is Romeo here?" I ask. A kid nods and points to a Mexican-looking boy my age. The boy stands and flashes me a smile; his teeth are gapped and snaking across his brow is a catepillar-esque unibrow.
'This cannot be Romeo,' I think, 'He's ugly!'
"You're Romeo?" I ask, praying desperately for a mistake.
"Yes, I am Romeo. God, I missed you." He embraces me. "I love you."
"I... love you too."
It's now nighttime. All of the captives are asleep in the gyms - save for me, Romeo, and Courtney. We're dashing down the dark halls in an escape attempt. We make it out safely.
Now it's daytime, and we're out roaming rather carelessly. Once in a while, a cop car drives by, and we dash into a nearby ditch or brush.
Suddenly, the scene changes, and now all the girls are gathered outside the camp, fenced in by barbed wire. We see a giant line of boys on the other side of the fence.
"Are they being forced to cut?" someone asks. Someone replies no.
While we're waiting, we begin to discuss why on earth we've been captured.
"It's because of the perimeter," Courtney says. "They captured all the Arabs and the citizens in a certain radius around D.C." This seemed to make sense to us.
Now it's nighttime again. I'm in this body-littered junkyard, searching frantically with some friends for Romeo. As we're running, one of my friend's foot accidentally slides under an outhouse and hits, with a sick thud, the head of a dead body.
"Make sure to look under the outhouses, too!" the someone shouts.
I run over to a nearby car. I look down, and there I see the body of Romeo. I kneel by his side and yell, "I've found him! Guys, I found Romeo!" My friends gather around. One tries to pull him up, but I smack at their hands; I notice a bullet wound in his side and tell them that we cannot move him.
Suddenly, I look up, and against a backdrop of the lightning-illuminated clouds, I see a crazed looking black man. His face is ashen and his arm is bloody and mutilated. He smiles insanely and grunts.
"No, no, please! Let me pull him to safely, please! He's been shot! No-"
The man proceeds to chase me. I scamper off in terror, regretfully leaving behind Romeo. I follow a friend as we zigzag through the cars, but the man cuts us off; my friend spots him before I do, and dashes the other way. I'm left stranded in the sea of dilapidated cars, the madman all the while hunkering towards me. [I see the cars so clearly in my head, all so detailed. I most vividly remember darting behind an open door of a demolished old mustang and praying the man hadn't seen me]. I turn and dash out of the cars, and see my friends leaping over a wall and onto the hill on the other side. The frantically gesture for me to follow. I scamper up the wall-
I wake up here. But soon, I fall back into sleep, slipping right back into the dream...
Now we're all huddled around a dying Romeo, who is now more handsome. A puddle of blood is seeping through his powder-blue shirt.
"Kiss me," he weakly orders. I lean in and comply, then rest my head on his shoulder and my hand upon his chest. I suddenly remember reading about the healing touch of women, and I close my eyes and begin to invision a white hot light snaking down my arm and into his body; I invision his damaged organs filling out and healing.
Suddenly, he sits up. "I feel better!"
I tell him to lie back down, then try the exercise again, hoping to fully replenish him. He sits back up when I'm done.
"Any better?"
"Mmm, not really, but I still feel better!"
The dream fades.
Suddenly, I'm Juilet. Romeo and I are on some floor engaging in some seriously passionate "love-making," for loss of a better term; for some terribly disturbing reason, my parents are watching? Anyway, we resemble the two actors in the 70's version of "Romeo and Juliet."
Now I'm my present self, though the reincarnated Juliet. My school has been turned into a concentration camp, and I, with the rest of my friends, have been captured. I'm dashing from gym to gym (where the clusters of people are being held) in desperate search of Romeo. Finally, I reach the last gym and dash up the bleachers.
"Is Romeo here?" I ask. A kid nods and points to a Mexican-looking boy my age. The boy stands and flashes me a smile; his teeth are gapped and snaking across his brow is a catepillar-esque unibrow.
'This cannot be Romeo,' I think, 'He's ugly!'
"You're Romeo?" I ask, praying desperately for a mistake.
"Yes, I am Romeo. God, I missed you." He embraces me. "I love you."
"I... love you too."
It's now nighttime. All of the captives are asleep in the gyms - save for me, Romeo, and Courtney. We're dashing down the dark halls in an escape attempt. We make it out safely.
Now it's daytime, and we're out roaming rather carelessly. Once in a while, a cop car drives by, and we dash into a nearby ditch or brush.
Suddenly, the scene changes, and now all the girls are gathered outside the camp, fenced in by barbed wire. We see a giant line of boys on the other side of the fence.
"Are they being forced to cut?" someone asks. Someone replies no.
While we're waiting, we begin to discuss why on earth we've been captured.
"It's because of the perimeter," Courtney says. "They captured all the Arabs and the citizens in a certain radius around D.C." This seemed to make sense to us.
Now it's nighttime again. I'm in this body-littered junkyard, searching frantically with some friends for Romeo. As we're running, one of my friend's foot accidentally slides under an outhouse and hits, with a sick thud, the head of a dead body.
"Make sure to look under the outhouses, too!" the someone shouts.
I run over to a nearby car. I look down, and there I see the body of Romeo. I kneel by his side and yell, "I've found him! Guys, I found Romeo!" My friends gather around. One tries to pull him up, but I smack at their hands; I notice a bullet wound in his side and tell them that we cannot move him.
Suddenly, I look up, and against a backdrop of the lightning-illuminated clouds, I see a crazed looking black man. His face is ashen and his arm is bloody and mutilated. He smiles insanely and grunts.
"No, no, please! Let me pull him to safely, please! He's been shot! No-"
The man proceeds to chase me. I scamper off in terror, regretfully leaving behind Romeo. I follow a friend as we zigzag through the cars, but the man cuts us off; my friend spots him before I do, and dashes the other way. I'm left stranded in the sea of dilapidated cars, the madman all the while hunkering towards me. [I see the cars so clearly in my head, all so detailed. I most vividly remember darting behind an open door of a demolished old mustang and praying the man hadn't seen me]. I turn and dash out of the cars, and see my friends leaping over a wall and onto the hill on the other side. The frantically gesture for me to follow. I scamper up the wall-
I wake up here. But soon, I fall back into sleep, slipping right back into the dream...
Now we're all huddled around a dying Romeo, who is now more handsome. A puddle of blood is seeping through his powder-blue shirt.
"Kiss me," he weakly orders. I lean in and comply, then rest my head on his shoulder and my hand upon his chest. I suddenly remember reading about the healing touch of women, and I close my eyes and begin to invision a white hot light snaking down my arm and into his body; I invision his damaged organs filling out and healing.
Suddenly, he sits up. "I feel better!"
I tell him to lie back down, then try the exercise again, hoping to fully replenish him. He sits back up when I'm done.
"Any better?"
"Mmm, not really, but I still feel better!"
The dream fades.