I had this awful dream where I was in the elementary school I attended when I was a little kid. I was being held hostage at gunpoint with some other kids by unseen assailants. It seemed like we were the only ones still alive. I somehow escaped and ran across the street to the home where when I was a kid a bunch of us were babysat until our parents picked us up after work. I was rousing kids from their naps, warning them about the danger across the street. I explained that we had to leave before we were taken hostage too and that we needed to help the other kids at school. I had been through this awful experience, traumatized, yet nobody believed me; they suspected I was on drugs.
The dream was kind like a prequel to the story of the person in "Ceiling Poem," who wakes up in a straitjacket. Edgy and damaged, they possess a truth so imminent, so terrible, they could only be mentally ill or dangerous.
"You're not getting off the ground this year." It seems more like never.
I had this awful dream where I was in the elementary school I attended when I was a little kid. I was being held hostage at gunpoint with some other kids by unseen assailants. It seemed like we were the only ones still alive. I somehow escaped and ran across the street to the home where when I was a kid a bunch of us were babysat until our parents picked us up after work. I was rousing kids from their naps, warning them about the danger across the street. I explained that we had to leave before we were taken hostage too and that we needed to help the other kids at school. I had been through this awful experience, traumatized, yet nobody believed me; they suspected I was on drugs.
The dream was kind like a prequel to the story of the person in "Ceiling Poem," who wakes up in a straitjacket. Edgy and damaged, they possess a truth so imminent, so terrible, they could only be mentally ill or dangerous.
"You're not getting off the ground this year." It seems more like never.