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Mar. 28th, 2005 07:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeHamlet time again.
Huddled in my Dad's house which is, really, little more than a one-room camper made out of card-board. It was bigger earlier on in the dream, and he had a backyard. Now it's a one-room camper in the middle of a square of grass, what looks like a park, in the middle of a city block. And that's when the gunfire starts.
Earlier on in the dream I was freaking out about weird looking bugs everywhere. Now we're all settled down for the night, my siblings and a couple other people who I think are friends of the family and my Dad and I. And the gunfire starts, and somehow we're at the center of the crossfire. Half of it's the police, I don't know why they're shooting at us. Through us. I huddle up, scream, whimper, and finally just... I don't remember everything I said. The general guy, the gang leader, the guy they were trying to get came right up next to the window that was at the spot I was sleeping. I said something like your people are dying, it's time to let go. He was dressed like some African military tribal leader from the movie about Rwanda, I think, the brown suit and the red cap. And he did, he surrendered himself to police and the shooting stopped. And the cops came in to make sure everyone was all right, and somhow no one got hurt. Until I look down and there's a hole through my ankle.
And then they patch me up. I don't know... they just put a bandage on either end of my ankle and call it a day. But the holes are still there, I can feel them there, and bleeding. I go to my mother's family, and they patch me up and sit me on a couch, and it's ok for a bit. But somehow after that I'm in an airport, and delayed by security with a couple other guys so we have to run for the gate. Me and my shot-up ankle. And for some reason I stop for donuts. Two chocolate-ish donuts with green icing, 'cause of St. Patrick's day. And I'm eating one and fumbling for my boarding pass with the other, making sure I have money for the Metro (evidently I'm going home) and wondering where the hell I put my carry on, or if I even brought one.
And then I woke up.
I don't want to go to work today. I want to go back to bed and dream no dreams.
Huddled in my Dad's house which is, really, little more than a one-room camper made out of card-board. It was bigger earlier on in the dream, and he had a backyard. Now it's a one-room camper in the middle of a square of grass, what looks like a park, in the middle of a city block. And that's when the gunfire starts.
Earlier on in the dream I was freaking out about weird looking bugs everywhere. Now we're all settled down for the night, my siblings and a couple other people who I think are friends of the family and my Dad and I. And the gunfire starts, and somehow we're at the center of the crossfire. Half of it's the police, I don't know why they're shooting at us. Through us. I huddle up, scream, whimper, and finally just... I don't remember everything I said. The general guy, the gang leader, the guy they were trying to get came right up next to the window that was at the spot I was sleeping. I said something like your people are dying, it's time to let go. He was dressed like some African military tribal leader from the movie about Rwanda, I think, the brown suit and the red cap. And he did, he surrendered himself to police and the shooting stopped. And the cops came in to make sure everyone was all right, and somhow no one got hurt. Until I look down and there's a hole through my ankle.
And then they patch me up. I don't know... they just put a bandage on either end of my ankle and call it a day. But the holes are still there, I can feel them there, and bleeding. I go to my mother's family, and they patch me up and sit me on a couch, and it's ok for a bit. But somehow after that I'm in an airport, and delayed by security with a couple other guys so we have to run for the gate. Me and my shot-up ankle. And for some reason I stop for donuts. Two chocolate-ish donuts with green icing, 'cause of St. Patrick's day. And I'm eating one and fumbling for my boarding pass with the other, making sure I have money for the Metro (evidently I'm going home) and wondering where the hell I put my carry on, or if I even brought one.
And then I woke up.
I don't want to go to work today. I want to go back to bed and dream no dreams.
