Lunch & a disturbing dream
Had an amazing albeit late lunch with my darling husband. Good conversation as well as how both our chi’s seemed to be disturbed last night. I had a full feature length type disturbing dream:
Started as a big Indian type wedding in a mansion of a house. We’d gotten there by bus after a long, hot, dusty journey. During the festivities some of the younger women asked where we could bathe. The mansion was built with no bathrooms. The toilet area and the bathing areas were both separate, and both were purportedly filthy and very gross. Some distance away on a long, scraggly back yard was a long garage like shed structure.
As some of us approached, through the cracked, old doors, we could tell that someone was inside already, bathing. There were many items within the garage, and the space available for the “bath” was crowded, and as anticipated, dirty. The other end of the long shed was open and some light filtered all the way to the back.
Suddenly the side doors opened and a very dark, nearly black skinned lady stood naked and indignant before us. Her hair in knotty wet shreds on her shoulders, she glared at us in uncomfortable silence. Awkward we stepped back, and one young woman pulled the door shut as we did so. Within a few minutes, there was a big commotion and people poured out of nowhere. Some were plain clothed commandos and others were in uniform. All were holding guns and surrounding the shed, some approaching inside from the opening.
We watched in horror, crouching instinctively. The side doors opened, and the commandos began to close in. One of us got kicked away by a soldier for being in the way. We could tear our eyes away, despite knowing that we probably didn’t want to stomach this.
A person in a white shirt came running out. Couldn’t tell if it was the same woman or not - may have been, or may not. As s/he ran away from us and between the shed and the house, s/he was shot in the left shoulder. Body stiffens and falls. We use the opportunity to run back to the house, but it appeared that the chase was not yet over. There was either another person still free, or the shot had not yet disabled the runner.
Back in the house, we found mass commotion. As though a state of emergency had been declared. Downstairs at the mansion, down the big library like steps, someone was trying to keep the children occupied by running them back and forth. So many children - maybe 30 or 35. This was a big family.
Not Indian now, but Israeli. The dark wood and large spaces closed in. Orthodox men rocked back and forth, reading the Torah. Children were dressed as they would be in the WW2 era, lots of clothes. My images of the children became black and white.
Someone else shouted that we’re tiring the children and that they need care instead. Some of us picked up some children who were sick & walked up the wide stairs again. Plenty of confusion, and someone was trying to tell a group what was going on. The 7 year old girl I was holding in my hand looked ashen. I was holding her bum and could feel a hard lump form there. As I looked at her face, I watched her eyes begin to roll and her body start to go limp. I wanted to set her down, but resisted because I could see that she was still alive. I really should hold her till the very end, I thought. Who knows what comfort she may feel. Finally her eyes turned upwards and her body began to stiffen. I pulled her eyelids down and set her down on some choir type pews on the side. Dark wood. Another boy’s body was laid down beside hers. The image grew to include many dead children.
I turned around and tried to help the person talking to the group. As I began to describe the fugitive, I struggled to create an image of him / her in my mind. It became easy when, through the crowd, I could point and say, “And s/he looks just like that. In fact, there he is”. Now the bob-cut haired man had suspenders over the white shirt. S/he heaved up a machine gun and opened indiscriminate fire. Many around me fell, gasping.
Commandos soon followed and shot at the fugitive. Someone managed to knock him down. I didn’t feel quite as involved, but realized that I was jumping on top of the person and tearing his left arm out of the socket. Didn’t know that I had enough energy, but I did so and the fugitive began to get up. I beat him over his head with his own torn arm, and found it weak. The torn arm was whapping him with insufficient force, and furthermore, the ripped end muscles were pulling apart and splitting the arm down from where I was holding on. The fugitive fell to the floor once more, and another bullet was put through his head.
The end.
Despite our disturbed dreams and the neighbor’s barking dog (at 4am), I felt comfortably placed in my life. After a satisfying lunch, which amazingly did not threaten to re-emerge, he took me back to work in the clean & new feeling rental SUV.
Some really soul-strengthening kisses later, I’m back to work & feeling better than I’ve felt in weeks.
Started as a big Indian type wedding in a mansion of a house. We’d gotten there by bus after a long, hot, dusty journey. During the festivities some of the younger women asked where we could bathe. The mansion was built with no bathrooms. The toilet area and the bathing areas were both separate, and both were purportedly filthy and very gross. Some distance away on a long, scraggly back yard was a long garage like shed structure.
As some of us approached, through the cracked, old doors, we could tell that someone was inside already, bathing. There were many items within the garage, and the space available for the “bath” was crowded, and as anticipated, dirty. The other end of the long shed was open and some light filtered all the way to the back.
Suddenly the side doors opened and a very dark, nearly black skinned lady stood naked and indignant before us. Her hair in knotty wet shreds on her shoulders, she glared at us in uncomfortable silence. Awkward we stepped back, and one young woman pulled the door shut as we did so. Within a few minutes, there was a big commotion and people poured out of nowhere. Some were plain clothed commandos and others were in uniform. All were holding guns and surrounding the shed, some approaching inside from the opening.
We watched in horror, crouching instinctively. The side doors opened, and the commandos began to close in. One of us got kicked away by a soldier for being in the way. We could tear our eyes away, despite knowing that we probably didn’t want to stomach this.
A person in a white shirt came running out. Couldn’t tell if it was the same woman or not - may have been, or may not. As s/he ran away from us and between the shed and the house, s/he was shot in the left shoulder. Body stiffens and falls. We use the opportunity to run back to the house, but it appeared that the chase was not yet over. There was either another person still free, or the shot had not yet disabled the runner.
Back in the house, we found mass commotion. As though a state of emergency had been declared. Downstairs at the mansion, down the big library like steps, someone was trying to keep the children occupied by running them back and forth. So many children - maybe 30 or 35. This was a big family.
Not Indian now, but Israeli. The dark wood and large spaces closed in. Orthodox men rocked back and forth, reading the Torah. Children were dressed as they would be in the WW2 era, lots of clothes. My images of the children became black and white.
Someone else shouted that we’re tiring the children and that they need care instead. Some of us picked up some children who were sick & walked up the wide stairs again. Plenty of confusion, and someone was trying to tell a group what was going on. The 7 year old girl I was holding in my hand looked ashen. I was holding her bum and could feel a hard lump form there. As I looked at her face, I watched her eyes begin to roll and her body start to go limp. I wanted to set her down, but resisted because I could see that she was still alive. I really should hold her till the very end, I thought. Who knows what comfort she may feel. Finally her eyes turned upwards and her body began to stiffen. I pulled her eyelids down and set her down on some choir type pews on the side. Dark wood. Another boy’s body was laid down beside hers. The image grew to include many dead children.
I turned around and tried to help the person talking to the group. As I began to describe the fugitive, I struggled to create an image of him / her in my mind. It became easy when, through the crowd, I could point and say, “And s/he looks just like that. In fact, there he is”. Now the bob-cut haired man had suspenders over the white shirt. S/he heaved up a machine gun and opened indiscriminate fire. Many around me fell, gasping.
Commandos soon followed and shot at the fugitive. Someone managed to knock him down. I didn’t feel quite as involved, but realized that I was jumping on top of the person and tearing his left arm out of the socket. Didn’t know that I had enough energy, but I did so and the fugitive began to get up. I beat him over his head with his own torn arm, and found it weak. The torn arm was whapping him with insufficient force, and furthermore, the ripped end muscles were pulling apart and splitting the arm down from where I was holding on. The fugitive fell to the floor once more, and another bullet was put through his head.
The end.
Despite our disturbed dreams and the neighbor’s barking dog (at 4am), I felt comfortably placed in my life. After a satisfying lunch, which amazingly did not threaten to re-emerge, he took me back to work in the clean & new feeling rental SUV.
Some really soul-strengthening kisses later, I’m back to work & feeling better than I’ve felt in weeks.