Europe & the Coming of the Devil
I'm in Europe, in an old village. It's like the olden days, but there are people in modern clothing everywhere. We're hanging out in groups, and nobody is really getting along. There seems to be the general understanding that something bad is about to happen, and everyone is starting to bicker... a feeling of unrest sweeps over the throngs of people.
And then he comes.
Satan, personified, is amongst the crowds. It's understood that he will kill you if you get in his way, if you show fear, or if you are the last person in a room to speak. Everyone tries to be quiet, but he coaxes them to speak, and then slaughters them. The sky is black, and there is smoke from a dozen fires in the town. There are bodies, and people are running from one building to another, huddling together, fighting each other. People shove each other out of the way, people get knocked down - it is utter pandemonium.
I get separated from the people that I know, and run around aimlessly, not knowing where I am headed. I find this group of people - Cuban? They're dressed in fancy flapper-type dresses & full suits, the men have thin moustaches, the women have hair slicked against their heads & gathered in buns at the back of their neck. They are dancing to ward off the devil, and I try to dance with them, to see if they will accept me into their group. I cannot get the steps down, and try my best, watching the dancers' legs swoosh gracefully around, their hands up in the air as they do their fancy footwork. I fail, and realize that I stick out like a sore thumb. Someone else dances me a little bit, but I am becoming less & less afraid the more that I realize that I fit in nowhere. Instead of continuing to try & join an existing group, I slowly start my own.
And this is where the dream gets weird.
Days pass, and our group is living in this house. We have found peace and order amidst the chaos, and protect one another through our routines. Nobody goes out alone, and most of us, including me, has mastered the art of not speaking. We go to the restrooms, and find a young woman so angry, yelling about the injustice of it all. I speak for the first time in days, and it's only to cry, and tell her how scared I am. I am not scared, I am totally calm, but I am channeling her thoughts, and her feelings. When she hears the words in her head coming out of my mouth, she grabs onto me, and begins to bawl. I hold her, and tell her that it's all right, that she has no reason to be scared, and that we will take care of her. Nobody speaks after me - I am the last person to speak in the room, but I have no fear. I guide her inside. It's then that I realize that I am wearing all white, and that I am kind of like a prophet/messiah or something.
I wake up.
And then he comes.
Satan, personified, is amongst the crowds. It's understood that he will kill you if you get in his way, if you show fear, or if you are the last person in a room to speak. Everyone tries to be quiet, but he coaxes them to speak, and then slaughters them. The sky is black, and there is smoke from a dozen fires in the town. There are bodies, and people are running from one building to another, huddling together, fighting each other. People shove each other out of the way, people get knocked down - it is utter pandemonium.
I get separated from the people that I know, and run around aimlessly, not knowing where I am headed. I find this group of people - Cuban? They're dressed in fancy flapper-type dresses & full suits, the men have thin moustaches, the women have hair slicked against their heads & gathered in buns at the back of their neck. They are dancing to ward off the devil, and I try to dance with them, to see if they will accept me into their group. I cannot get the steps down, and try my best, watching the dancers' legs swoosh gracefully around, their hands up in the air as they do their fancy footwork. I fail, and realize that I stick out like a sore thumb. Someone else dances me a little bit, but I am becoming less & less afraid the more that I realize that I fit in nowhere. Instead of continuing to try & join an existing group, I slowly start my own.
And this is where the dream gets weird.
Days pass, and our group is living in this house. We have found peace and order amidst the chaos, and protect one another through our routines. Nobody goes out alone, and most of us, including me, has mastered the art of not speaking. We go to the restrooms, and find a young woman so angry, yelling about the injustice of it all. I speak for the first time in days, and it's only to cry, and tell her how scared I am. I am not scared, I am totally calm, but I am channeling her thoughts, and her feelings. When she hears the words in her head coming out of my mouth, she grabs onto me, and begins to bawl. I hold her, and tell her that it's all right, that she has no reason to be scared, and that we will take care of her. Nobody speaks after me - I am the last person to speak in the room, but I have no fear. I guide her inside. It's then that I realize that I am wearing all white, and that I am kind of like a prophet/messiah or something.
I wake up.
posted by AJ at 11:47 AM
0 comments
