Through a Dream Darkly

I get around.

One recurring theme in my nghtly dreams is travel and being in places near and far where I’ve not been before.

This morning I had a series of downer dreams that cast, as they do, a pall upon my mood and start of the day.

One dream, the last of the bunch, was particularly intense. I hesitate to put it out there in words, I wouldn’t wanna plant bad seeds in mankind’s consciousness; it’s only my certainty that this has been thought of before, though not necessarily developed as an action plan, that I go forth.

I was in a city downtown of hustle and bustle … late afternoonish … a lot of people coming and going and crisscrossing in all directions … narrow streets winding haphazardly … cosmopolitan … some diversity … a place with a busy train/transit station. Like San Francisco or Tokyo – though it was neither. Or New York. Like that.

Hastily I sought to get somewhere and in the stream brushed up against a man. Two men actually but only this one was prominent. He (and friend) were standing to the side, watching the tumbling flow with a calm countenance that aroused no suspicion or alarm or second looks, one in fact pleasant and cheerful.

Their purpose was anything but. For what they were doing as individuals randomly brushed by was implant … something into exposed flesh.

I don’t know what to call it. Not a hard chip. Something soluble and soft (like a vitamin or cooked rice grain) and very small. So small that it could be inserted through a passing contact into flesh and the recipient would feel little but the sting of an insect.

That’s how artful and advanced this was!

Aa I hastened by the man, from his quick hand he inserted one of those “gizmos” into my left forearm. I felt and knew instantly. “Ouch!” I said.

In moments fleeting yet intense, I looked at him as I crossed the street . I couldn’t know the exact impending biological effect (though if a flash in the dream is any indication, the chemical carrier induces thoughts and/or behaviors disturbed, atypical and/or immoral).

I knew only that it wasn’t good.

I knew this by intelligent intuition and, as I moved away, the expression on the man’s face, best described as youthful fair Middle Eastern, and in his brown eyes that upon meeting mine directly spoke that he knew I knew. A subtle wicked look uncloaked of ill intent and malfeasance, a bio project, masterfully sly and quick.

It all felt so real and visceral that the question waiting when I awoke was: Where in the world is this happening? And if not yet, when.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. longeyesamurai
    Aug 30, 2011 @ 05:15:53

    Welcome to the world of post-Sept 11, I’m afraid. Have to admit that I can just imagine the unease you felt. I remember post-Columbine having some particularly vivid dreams about my high school days only twisted by the events in Colorado.

    Sometimes I was the victim, sometimes I was the shooter, and sometimes I was just standing, frozen, a silent witness to the events. 3 guesses, which freaked me more and the first two don’t count.


    • allycatadventures
      Aug 30, 2011 @ 08:24:04

      @Capra – Sometimes evil and darkness come wrapped in charm and a smile. As disturbing as it may be, more disturbing is that, after centuries of warnings, people vote for it. Columbine is not terribly far from where I live (which is to say, far closer to me than you 🙂 ). I imagine it could/would trigger (poor word choice?) such dreams. Hmmmmm, for you I would guess standing, frozen, silent witness. Is the Maytag washer mine?! (Not to make light of the topic …)


  2. longeyesamurai
    Aug 31, 2011 @ 04:40:03

    “Right on the button, you are” says Yoda about the dream. As for accepting evil, there is truth in the old adage that people who forgets the past are condemned to relive it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: