murderous dreams
How I had been lured into the elevator, I'm not quite sure, but as soon as I stepped onto it, and pressed the button for the 38th floor, I knew I was in trouble. The doors closed before I could rush out of the cabin. It ascended slowly to start off with, seeming almost maliciously slow, and then it stopped.
"Come on, what's going on here?" I asked aloud.
And then the elevator shot upwards, as if answering my question with a speedy lift towards my intended goal. The floors where whizzing past, a slight anxiety slowly stirring in my guts.
And then, suddenly, it started dropping. I do not know how high I was by that point but the fall was fast enough to make the blood rush into my head. I held onto the railings attached to the walls, waiting to see what would happen next. The elevator stopped, then shot upwards again. I was thinking to myself that I hadn't yet reached the end of this story, that I should be able to see outside soon. And within seconds, the concrete walls of the elevator shaft turned into glass, and I could see over the urban landscape stretching in front of me for kilometres. The air was filled with light and I enjoyed the scenery for a brief instant, knowing that this was the last time I would see humanity.
And then the elevator plunged back into the depths, burying my living body with itself.
I was on the hunt for a toilet, a very particular one. I had already shoved many people out of my way, hoping to find the right one amidst the chaos I was surrounded by. Everything was dark and dirty, the toilet seats barely in sight, and when freely visible, then eaten by years of corrosion. The floors were covered in filth and a contained panic seemed to reign in the hearts of all those around. There were more cubicles than I could care to count, but somehow none of them usable.
After asking around, some pushing and shoving, I finally found one that would have to do. There was no door, but I thought it was far enough from the main door to be safe.
The man in the cubicle next to me was not well. But there was not much I could do for him. I pulled out something from my pockets just as another man, with tightly curled black hair and a worn dark green jacket, started screaming behind me, in between the wash basins and cubicles, while brandishing his semi-automatic in the air. I had no time to react before I felt a bullet hit the top of my right leg and the rest of my body hit the floor as my leg gave in from the pain. I watched as dark blood started pouring from the gaping wound. I knew this was not good. I tried to push as hard as I could on the wound but it didn't seem to do much, the blood just spilled from between my fingers. The pain was incredible, but somehow I felt detached. I knew this was a question of life and death, and I knew there was not much hope for me at this point. My mind was filled with options, as the man with the gun slowly walked around, checking how well he'd hit his targets. Should I lay down and pretend to be dead?
I could feel the blood in my body draining out of me, my head dizzy and my body colder and colder. I lay my head by the toilet bowl, to reduce the pressure on the open wound, and to conserve my energy. As found a place to rest my head and the filth covered floor, I heard his calm footsteps come my way and guessed the gun that aimed at my head. I never heard the click that killed me, but was relieved I didn't have to suffer any longer.
We were not really in hiding, it was just a place to be warm and somewhat safe. Our team perhaps 4 head strong, our accompanying group much larger than us. They slept of hammocks, while we'd built ourselves beds from abandoned blocks of wood and carpets. We kept the small TV we'd managed to buy open all day and night, just to be safe. As the reports of further ethnic violence came through, the anxiety within our container could easily be felt. We had no doors to keep us safe, only a make-do curtain we'd fixed onto a sliding plastic frame. We could shut it with chains, but who were we fooling but ourselves if we were to think it would keep anyone out - if they really wanted in. I talked to the head of the group living with us, who would be directly threatened by this renewed wave of violence. I had to stay with them, in fact we all had to stay put, for their safety, and ours.
Not long after the reports came in, two men came into the hangar where hundreds of us lived in these make-shift homes, looking for trouble. They tried to force the curtain open. I went to meet them and assure them there was no one of interest in here. They were surprised to find white people living there. One of the men, the bulkier one with dark sports on his cheeks, met my words with respect, but I saw the machete the other one held in his hands, behind his back. This was not a curtesy call, and they knew I was hiding someone.
I told them I was a lama and was here for peace and that I wished them to respect my sanctuary and my disciples. They paid their surprised respects to me, shook my hand and went their way. As I shut our curtain-door, a wave of worry swept through our little fragile home: I was no lama and would now have to go to town to act the part and keep up the appearances. A cloth of the right colour and shape was found and Paul walked into town to meet my parents with me. We did our mandatory shopping in the heart of the bustling market and made our way back. At the door of the hangar, I noticed the two men waiting - i knew if I went in with them tailing me, they would force the inner sanctuary of our home and kill us all once they found out who lived there. We walked towards the entrance, as if minding our own business, the men went in ahead of us, thinking we hadn't spotted them. As the doors to the elevator were about to be closed, we suddenly changed direction and pretended to return to the market. This was going to end badly, I knew I was in for yet another instance of pain and horror. We walked as calmly towards a big wheel of fortune, hoping that this would draw the two men to tail us and away from those we lived with ...
… I was woken up by crows cawing right outside the window at 3 am. They seemed to be alarmed about something. I was in a state of panic, thinking doom itself was about to happen. I sat up, as silently as I could, looked outside, watched the birch tree that was lit orange by the street-lights waving at me in the dark night. My body was shaking so hard that for a moment I thought that perhaps an earthquake was happening. As anxiety closed further in on me, I lit up the bed-side lamp.
Paul woke up, asked what was wrong. I told him I'd had bad dreams and then burst into tears.
Never before have I had such vivid dreams.
Even wide awake, I could still feel the hand-shake of the black man that had threatened me just before I was woken up. The strength of his hand-shake, the texture of his skin, all of it pressed onto my skin as reality. It took Paul a while to calm me down. The crows stopped their raucous as soon as I calmed down, and flew away once I managed to relax again.
As I heard then cawing in the distance, I smiled to myself thinking that they were off to wake someone else from sticky nightmares, fulfilling their duty as guardians of the night.
It took me the best part of an hour to dare fall asleep again.
"Come on, what's going on here?" I asked aloud.
And then the elevator shot upwards, as if answering my question with a speedy lift towards my intended goal. The floors where whizzing past, a slight anxiety slowly stirring in my guts.
And then, suddenly, it started dropping. I do not know how high I was by that point but the fall was fast enough to make the blood rush into my head. I held onto the railings attached to the walls, waiting to see what would happen next. The elevator stopped, then shot upwards again. I was thinking to myself that I hadn't yet reached the end of this story, that I should be able to see outside soon. And within seconds, the concrete walls of the elevator shaft turned into glass, and I could see over the urban landscape stretching in front of me for kilometres. The air was filled with light and I enjoyed the scenery for a brief instant, knowing that this was the last time I would see humanity.
And then the elevator plunged back into the depths, burying my living body with itself.
I was on the hunt for a toilet, a very particular one. I had already shoved many people out of my way, hoping to find the right one amidst the chaos I was surrounded by. Everything was dark and dirty, the toilet seats barely in sight, and when freely visible, then eaten by years of corrosion. The floors were covered in filth and a contained panic seemed to reign in the hearts of all those around. There were more cubicles than I could care to count, but somehow none of them usable.
After asking around, some pushing and shoving, I finally found one that would have to do. There was no door, but I thought it was far enough from the main door to be safe.
The man in the cubicle next to me was not well. But there was not much I could do for him. I pulled out something from my pockets just as another man, with tightly curled black hair and a worn dark green jacket, started screaming behind me, in between the wash basins and cubicles, while brandishing his semi-automatic in the air. I had no time to react before I felt a bullet hit the top of my right leg and the rest of my body hit the floor as my leg gave in from the pain. I watched as dark blood started pouring from the gaping wound. I knew this was not good. I tried to push as hard as I could on the wound but it didn't seem to do much, the blood just spilled from between my fingers. The pain was incredible, but somehow I felt detached. I knew this was a question of life and death, and I knew there was not much hope for me at this point. My mind was filled with options, as the man with the gun slowly walked around, checking how well he'd hit his targets. Should I lay down and pretend to be dead?
I could feel the blood in my body draining out of me, my head dizzy and my body colder and colder. I lay my head by the toilet bowl, to reduce the pressure on the open wound, and to conserve my energy. As found a place to rest my head and the filth covered floor, I heard his calm footsteps come my way and guessed the gun that aimed at my head. I never heard the click that killed me, but was relieved I didn't have to suffer any longer.
We were not really in hiding, it was just a place to be warm and somewhat safe. Our team perhaps 4 head strong, our accompanying group much larger than us. They slept of hammocks, while we'd built ourselves beds from abandoned blocks of wood and carpets. We kept the small TV we'd managed to buy open all day and night, just to be safe. As the reports of further ethnic violence came through, the anxiety within our container could easily be felt. We had no doors to keep us safe, only a make-do curtain we'd fixed onto a sliding plastic frame. We could shut it with chains, but who were we fooling but ourselves if we were to think it would keep anyone out - if they really wanted in. I talked to the head of the group living with us, who would be directly threatened by this renewed wave of violence. I had to stay with them, in fact we all had to stay put, for their safety, and ours.
Not long after the reports came in, two men came into the hangar where hundreds of us lived in these make-shift homes, looking for trouble. They tried to force the curtain open. I went to meet them and assure them there was no one of interest in here. They were surprised to find white people living there. One of the men, the bulkier one with dark sports on his cheeks, met my words with respect, but I saw the machete the other one held in his hands, behind his back. This was not a curtesy call, and they knew I was hiding someone.
I told them I was a lama and was here for peace and that I wished them to respect my sanctuary and my disciples. They paid their surprised respects to me, shook my hand and went their way. As I shut our curtain-door, a wave of worry swept through our little fragile home: I was no lama and would now have to go to town to act the part and keep up the appearances. A cloth of the right colour and shape was found and Paul walked into town to meet my parents with me. We did our mandatory shopping in the heart of the bustling market and made our way back. At the door of the hangar, I noticed the two men waiting - i knew if I went in with them tailing me, they would force the inner sanctuary of our home and kill us all once they found out who lived there. We walked towards the entrance, as if minding our own business, the men went in ahead of us, thinking we hadn't spotted them. As the doors to the elevator were about to be closed, we suddenly changed direction and pretended to return to the market. This was going to end badly, I knew I was in for yet another instance of pain and horror. We walked as calmly towards a big wheel of fortune, hoping that this would draw the two men to tail us and away from those we lived with ...
… I was woken up by crows cawing right outside the window at 3 am. They seemed to be alarmed about something. I was in a state of panic, thinking doom itself was about to happen. I sat up, as silently as I could, looked outside, watched the birch tree that was lit orange by the street-lights waving at me in the dark night. My body was shaking so hard that for a moment I thought that perhaps an earthquake was happening. As anxiety closed further in on me, I lit up the bed-side lamp.
Paul woke up, asked what was wrong. I told him I'd had bad dreams and then burst into tears.
Never before have I had such vivid dreams.
Even wide awake, I could still feel the hand-shake of the black man that had threatened me just before I was woken up. The strength of his hand-shake, the texture of his skin, all of it pressed onto my skin as reality. It took Paul a while to calm me down. The crows stopped their raucous as soon as I calmed down, and flew away once I managed to relax again.
As I heard then cawing in the distance, I smiled to myself thinking that they were off to wake someone else from sticky nightmares, fulfilling their duty as guardians of the night.
It took me the best part of an hour to dare fall asleep again.