dream a little dream of me

When I was a child I experienced a few recurring dreams. All three were so different from each other that I wonder at times if I was inhaled to a past life.

One dream in particular was disturbing. There were a gaggle of children adorned in drab grey uniforms (myself included) being escorted from school to a bus. Clearly, we were going on a field trip. The bus takes us to a tall white building. Not a skyscraper, more the height of an old oak tree.

We were then corralled up a flight of stairs as we waited entry. Once the door opened, our adolescent assembly line continued climbing around the interior perimeter of the building. It was hot. Fires were burning white deep in the earth below us. Up ahead, I could see a square platform where a uniformed guard stood watch.

As I climbed closer I saw. The children were falling. Why are they falling, I asked myself? The heat was overwhelming and I tried to stand closer to the wall. As I watched these children cascade from the platform, I realized they had no expressions. No fear, no sound. The only cacophony was from the hungry fire we hovered.

That was when I got it. We climbed, we trailed and we fell. Emotionless, fearless death.

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