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April 8, 2007

4.08.07

The dream starts with images of a reddish-orange gel substance leaking on the streets. It is something that people are running from and scared of. It is night time. I am in a hotel on the 6th or 7th floor, minding my own business. Outside, people are being pushed around and yelled at by cops. Directly out my window, there is a triangular square, much like Times Square in New York, but much smaller. The buildings are made from a tannish brick, which gives the streets a yellow sheen. It is night time, and the roads are slick. The building that is on the triangular corner has been converted into a “monastery” and there are a few “bishops” standing around outside. The bishops and monks who come out of this monastery are strikingly big and tough. They are like warrior monks who wear dark brown robes. I am in my hotel room, looking down at the scene on the street, people darting from alley to alley, cops busting pedestrians for random things.

I am just observing what’s going on, on the street below me. It looks like 2037, martial law, there are futuristic cars gliding by, the newspaper boxes are all cracked or spray-painted, all the stores are boarded up, save for a few coffee shops and tobacconists every few storefronts or so. For some reason, only random business have stayed alive, while the others have, for some reason, ceased to do business. It is a sick scene, from this hotel room, to watch people being pushed around by cops, and beaten right in the street. Ladies scream holding their babies, bums linger in alleys hoping to be left alone by the cops and other authorities that roam. The cops seem to be answering and taking orders from the archbishops which stand at the chained-up entrance to the monastery, the windows to the monastery are chained and some of them have plywood covers on them, the entire front of the building, (which was converted into an abbey, or monastery) is covered with graffiti and slogans which I can’t make out from my 6th story window. The archbishops step away from the monastery entrance, and two massive wooden doors swing slowly open. Tall masculine monks dressed in dark brown robes file out of the doorway, each of them with his head covered by his cloak. They are filing out onto the streets and entering buildings as they move, there must be hundreds of them, because they just keep pouring out. Suddenly, I see one of their faces in the flash of light from a cops flashlight, the monk‘s face is pale, he has red bags under his eyes, and black hair around his face. He looks like a half-human, half alien, like he’s been bred with some other being. They don’t speak. I realize, from my window, that they are entering every building on this block, and doing something to the people. Across the street, as the monks entered a two-story building, a woman out the window and landed on the wet pavement, her baby still screaming inside. The woman looked up at her baby in the house crying, and suddenly, the baby stopped crying, the lady is screaming at the window, saying “no”, and then I see one of the monks come to the window; the monk looks at the lady screaming on the pavement, and holds out his arm. The woman stops screaming, falls to her knees. I can’t tell if she’s dead or alive.

At this point, I’m realizing that these monks are not for our salvation, they are part of the Church, paid for by the archbishops, paid for by the government; they are not on the duty of the church. They are somehow making people unconscious, but when the people wake up, they are changed people. Conceivably, this is what happened to the monks to make them this way. These monks are like the new Marines, except they deal with the souls of people, not weapons and machinery.
Suddenly, the power goes out on the whole block. Now, I realize that this whole block is in danger, that I have to get out of the hotel room. But, even before I turn my back to the window, I sense that one of them is already in the room. I turn around, and three of them are standing direcly behind me. One of them holds his hand out to me, I scream “No!” and break through the middle of them, bounce across the bed, and head directly for the doorway, (I left the door open). I race through the hallway, the monks are slow to follow, they seem to know that my running is futile. I run about 30 yards down the long hallway, and see an open door on my left. I run into that room, which is nearly identical to the room I was in, but it’s on the other side of the wing. Without wasting any time, I push open the window, and prepare to jump out onto the shrubbery below. On this side of the hotel, there is a narrow parking lot, lined by shrubbery on either side. I reach down, and lower myself so I am hanging from the thin ledge of concrete on the window-sill. I look down, and it’s such a far drop, I know I need to push off so I reach the shrubs. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy with long red hair, walking casually along the parking lot, I yell for him, thinking I can trust him. Somehow, he hears me, and runs over to me, as if knowing that I need help, that I can be trusted. I whisper to him while Im hanging from the window, “push that hedge over so I land on it”. He did that, I let go of the window, and fell the 5 stories down and luckily landed on the shrub. My left side was completely bruised and scraped, but I was okay and I got out of the hotel before the monks got to me. I looked at the red-haired guy, and he was like someone I’d seen before, like an old relative. He said, “come on, let’s go.” He led us around the parking lot, and we ran down an earthen path that seemed to lead out of the main square that the hotel was on. We came to another long hedgerow that looked onto a holding area where police were watching refugees and making sure people were in order. Some people were crying on the curb, holding their knees, some children were running around, as if nothing was wrong. Some older women, sat on the curbs and benches with blank looks on their faces, and some people were in large cages that lined the police building. There were large fences that lead into the police building and people were selectively being herded through them. It was chaos, me and the red-haired were watching it from behind a bush. Then, one of the cops who was patrolling the small lot spotted us, and started quickstepping our way. Instead of running in the opposite direction, back towards the hotel, the red-haird guy said, “Come on!” He grabbed my hand and we leaped over the hedgerow and right past the cop. The cop slipped on the wet pavement, and blew a whistle to alert the other guards, at that exact moment, a ruckus occurred within the ranks of the civilians, some of them saw our mad dash and started yelling, some of them even started trying to break trhough the fences. This area was clearly understaffed for the police men. So me and the red-haired guy try to find a way around the cops encampment, since it is poorly maintained. Everywhere people are yelling and pushing at the fences that are leading them into the cop-facility. One section of the fence gives way, and civilians start spilling out of it in a frenzy, they are running in every direction, some to their old homes, some to find their children, some attacking the cops. People are being pepper gassed randomly…

3:03 PM that’s just the first half.

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