Dream 02.04.09

I was herded into a bus, and forced into a seat. I looked around, and saw several others who were forced in as well. I silently gathered my surroundings, viewed the people, and faced forward in my seat. It was a yellow-bus style set up with the seats, and there were a variety of people. In the back, I had seen a young black man, in the middle seats, several white boys aged 13 to 20. I was seated near the front, and behind me, a rather obese man in blue.

The bus went on for a while, and I could tell there was something wrong. Everyone else seemed to be content, as if there were nothing at all wrong with this trip. I remained seated, clutching my bag. I removed what appeared to be a drumstick from my bag, and stuck it in a pocket.

Just after doing that, someone said from behind me, “You’re from London, aren’t you?” There was no way for them to know that I was not from this country; I hadn’t said a word.

Trying my hardest to speak in an American accent, I asked, “How do you know that?”

“I went to school with you, remember?” I turned around to see the fat man sitting there, now searching through his photo album for a picture. He found one, and showed it to me. It was of a small farmhouse on a rocky hill. “This was before they turned it into a big artsy complex,” he said.

This is when I knew for certain that something was wrong. The image was of my “school,” yet it was not the right picture. I was an artist as a second skill, my first training at that school was for other things. We were very secretive, and no one of his demeanor and appearance would ever be admitted into that school, and definitely not into that section.

I tried to ignore him, responding as little as possible, and always masking my accent.

The bus stopped. People tried to pour out of it as fast as possible. The driver stopped me as I tried, saying that only seven were permitted out at this stop. I looked out the window, and we were at some form of secured compound. The bus was now passing through a second set of linked gates. The barbed wire at the top didn’t calm me down one bit, nor my fellow passengers.

We came to the next stop, and a guard came out of a small building on the right. The fat man ushered me out ahead of him, and the black man in the back joined us. We were then forced into the main building through the door on our left.

Upon entering, more armored guards surrounded us, then each grabbed two people. The black man and I were taken to another room with a table in the middle. There was a phone on the wall next to a door, and movable walls, like the ones used for cubicles, around us on two sides.

The black man and I were seated next to each other, and the guard began to ask us questions. I drew the attention of the man next me downward, and showed him what I had put into my pocket. He nodded slightly, and understood what I was planning. He attacked the armored guard, and drew him away from me, and I was able to stab the guard in the back in a part where he was not protected.

He reeled back, and I then cut his throat with a knife he wore on a leg strap. Other guards were coming now, leaving their posts and interrogations to see what was going on. Others took this distraction advantage to take out their guards. Soon the first level was cleared, and we moved to a set of stairs.

I slowly led the way up the staircase, and pushed the people back after I had gotten a look at what was up there. There were more guards, female this time. They were more lithe, they were quicker, they were deadlier. I turned to the people behind me and told them to back up, quickly, and I also noticed that I was the only female there as well . . .

I hung on the side of the stairs, where I could see the first foot of someone as they stepped downward, and they wouldn’t be able to see me. Sure enough, I soon saw a foot, and just as sure, the foot came off by my hand. The next woman to come down jumped over the fallen one, and I disabled her by cutting at her leg.

Suddenly, a woman jumped down the stairs, and out of my reach. She still couldn’t see me. She lept down the second set of stairs, getting closer to the people I was trying to protect. One of them was a quick thinker, and caught her feet in a bucket, and they attacked her. I had turned away from my post to view this, and as I turned back . . .

I was greeted by mace, or pepper spray, or some other spray to blind me. I fell from where I was standing, and was caught by the others. I screamed that I was blind, and woke up.

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