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mokie_edomAll the zombies ever had, redemption songs...
I dreamt that some sort of disaster had struck society, and my family was taking in children affected by it. One child in particular we'd taken into the family, and considered our own, but most we were just minding till it was over and they could go home. I don't know what the big disaster was, but it was not yet at the "Send in the Coast Guard!" level of chaos: some stores were still open, there was not yet widespread looting and pillaging, and society was still more or less functional. My family lived in a modified version of my childhood home, which we lost to foreclosure in December of '05 (had been impending since that May), and my grandmother, who we lost to cancer in May '02, was alive in the dream, but not much like herself.
I lay on top of a bunk bed, reading, when one of the children looked over the side and tried to attack me. He'd become a zombie, but fortunately for me, he was still a child, so he couldn't reach far onto the bed--I pushed his head back with my book and that was that. There is a blip here in either the flow of the dream or my memory of it: I think the dream rewound a bit, to avoid the attack entirely, but I'm not certain. I now walked to the children's barracks-style bedroom and looked in. In the dark, I saw that several had become zombies, and they rushed the door. I slammed it and latched it, and even with it shut, they still stuck their fingers through the gaps, trying to get at me.
I went to the family and told them what was happening. They agreed; we had to leave. My grandmother went to the car, through the house, checking supplies on her own, and it was strange, because we were doing that ourselves and she worked apart. We confronted her, and she coldly confirmed that she would be leaving on her own, with anything she damn well pleased (i.e., the car), though she gave no reason why. I believe she intended to take one of the cousins or the adopted boy with her, however. The family had a very, very brief discussion about the children, which went something like this: "What about the kids?" "Pft. What about them?" They'd been locked in with zombies; they were written-off.
We ran out in a hurry and left, and my mother mentioned that we'd forgotten the adopted boy, apparently not taken by my grandmother. The group consensus was "Oh well." Once again, left behind in zombie territory meant he was as good as dead now. We'd left most of our belongings behind, and I mentioned aloud that I hadn't grabbed my photos, and I didn't care. I didn't have a change of clothes, and I didn't care. I had my mp3 player, but only because I'd had it in my pocket when everything hit the fan. And I didn't care. There was some laughter, some nodding--all that stuff that had tied us down was left behind in zombie territory, good as gone.
Again there is a blip in the dream or my memory of it. We're now travelling by truck/SUV, with a cousin of mine at the wheel, and she needs to stop for gas. We pull over to a Jetson-style automated gas station, where people are still lining up and going inside to pay and in general being very normal, but still my cousin crashes through the glass of the store to get what she wants; there'll be mass chaos soon enough from the zombies, right? Why go through the motions now? She warns us, as she backs in, to watch out for Romans, and I know she means Catholics and I cringe, because the breaking and entering may not bother me but the bigotry does.
Blip again! The large automated gas station is some sort of big rest area complex, and in part of it, I'm watching a villain test his henchmen. There are notes tacked to the walls with parts of nefarious plans written on them. I believe the test was something of a multiple choice scavenger hunt--find the note, answer the relevant question, move on through the traps/obstacle course, etc. The henchman, a greasy fat white guy with rasta pretensions, had apparently screwed up royally on the test, and so the boss, a very tall, very muscular black man with dreads, had his throat in hand and pressed him against the wall demanding answers.
The henchman, desperate, says, "All I can say is, um...my hand was made strong, by the hand of the Almighty...coz all I ever had--"
And the boss squeezes and says, "The next word out of your mouth had better not be 'redemption,'" as the henchman mouthed the word (being unable to breath and all).
And I admit that I smirked, because I understood his objection to little white rasta-wannabe boy singing "Redemption Song." Oh yes...
BLIP! I was sitting at a table in a tightly packed cafe or restaurant in the gas station complex. I was waiting for the family, but they were a no-show. Behind me was a large table full of very festive and talkative folks, singing along as the band played "Redemption Song." The villain entered, and we understood that he was the artist behind the song (though not any Marley). He approached the group to thank them for something, and I had stood at the wrong moment. He greeted me warmly and I explained that the folks he wanted were right behind me. It amused them, and him, because I could have kept my mouth shut and had a free ride there, but I told them I didn't want to take away anyone else's rightful [kudos?].
The group was led off by one henchman to their own little party or reward, but the villain and another henchman sat down with me. The henchman took my hand and I tried to shake his or to pull my hand away; he laughed at my social awkwardness, as did the villain, and said to just be still. He kissed my hand in a way that was definitely not gentlemanly, and sat a bit too close for comfort. I was nervous about screwing things up.
Notes and explanations
#1. In the past few years, May proved to be a very bad month for my family. The number of problems that befell us in previous Mays led to dread of the month: May is coming, what's going to go wrong now? The appearance of the old house and of my grandmother, both with May-ties, could be a timing issue, my brain noting the date and the history; I lose both in the dream again. It could also be a coincidence, as both have appeared in other dreams with no such meaning to them.
#2. I've been researching the Black Death and other plagues recently, as well as patron saints of orphans (Jerome Emiliani) and lost causes (Jude) and such. It explains our makeshift orphanage and the disaster, I believe, as well as the odd anti-Catholic remark from my dream-cousin, as there is the occasional bit of anti-Catholic history attached to the research. (In waking life, this cousin's son attends a Catholic school. So no real life bigotry spill-over there.)
#3. Zombies! I dream of zombies quite often, and once again, the zombies are terribly unfrightening in my dream. I wondered about them being children, but then realized that most of my dream zombies are children--children on the school bus become zombies, children at school become zombies, and I walk through the crowd as a child, usually.
#4. Even in the dream, I thought it damn cold-hearted of us to leave behind the children, and the adopted boy, and I wondered at us leaving all our stuff behind. At the same time, it was very liberating to cut all ties and run. Maybe it goes back to losing the old house, and leaving so much stuff behind because we had to leave in a rush.
#5. I've also been researching villains and evil plans lately. The villainous test element amused me, and maybe means I need to not approach the research in such a formulaic, schoolgirl kind of way.
#6. REDEMPTION SONG! I have fifteen-odd different covers of this song, and I'd say thirteen of them are by white artists.
#7. The Two Men are recurring figures in my dreams, usually villains, usually malignant caricatures, rarely wearing the same face twice. Though they were clearly appointed villains earlier and elsewhere in the dream, in the end element they were not threatening, except in that sort of lecherous, "Hey baby..." sort of way that speaks more of my social anxieties and ineptitude than anything else. It's almost pleasant to run into them again this way, though I know it means the dream has significant undertones I need to examine further.
#8. Race is occasionally important in my dreams, in the sense of identifying recurring figures (black woman = possibly the Black Lady = God), tying recurring figures together, poking me in my unrealized issues, and so forth. Superficially, it looks potentially significant that the Two Men were black and villains; I know my dreams have tied those two elements together before, and shown me that some of the prejudices I grew up with hadn't been cut from my brain quite as effectively as I'd thought.
Except that the pair is not really intimidating, in a real sense, and resembles a pair of men who've been flirty with me in waking life, just as they were flirty with me in the dream. So I think the issues being poked here aren't racially-related but socially-related, i.e., my sad, sad social skills.
I dreamt that some sort of disaster had struck society, and my family was taking in children affected by it. One child in particular we'd taken into the family, and considered our own, but most we were just minding till it was over and they could go home. I don't know what the big disaster was, but it was not yet at the "Send in the Coast Guard!" level of chaos: some stores were still open, there was not yet widespread looting and pillaging, and society was still more or less functional. My family lived in a modified version of my childhood home, which we lost to foreclosure in December of '05 (had been impending since that May), and my grandmother, who we lost to cancer in May '02, was alive in the dream, but not much like herself.
I lay on top of a bunk bed, reading, when one of the children looked over the side and tried to attack me. He'd become a zombie, but fortunately for me, he was still a child, so he couldn't reach far onto the bed--I pushed his head back with my book and that was that. There is a blip here in either the flow of the dream or my memory of it: I think the dream rewound a bit, to avoid the attack entirely, but I'm not certain. I now walked to the children's barracks-style bedroom and looked in. In the dark, I saw that several had become zombies, and they rushed the door. I slammed it and latched it, and even with it shut, they still stuck their fingers through the gaps, trying to get at me.
I went to the family and told them what was happening. They agreed; we had to leave. My grandmother went to the car, through the house, checking supplies on her own, and it was strange, because we were doing that ourselves and she worked apart. We confronted her, and she coldly confirmed that she would be leaving on her own, with anything she damn well pleased (i.e., the car), though she gave no reason why. I believe she intended to take one of the cousins or the adopted boy with her, however. The family had a very, very brief discussion about the children, which went something like this: "What about the kids?" "Pft. What about them?" They'd been locked in with zombies; they were written-off.
We ran out in a hurry and left, and my mother mentioned that we'd forgotten the adopted boy, apparently not taken by my grandmother. The group consensus was "Oh well." Once again, left behind in zombie territory meant he was as good as dead now. We'd left most of our belongings behind, and I mentioned aloud that I hadn't grabbed my photos, and I didn't care. I didn't have a change of clothes, and I didn't care. I had my mp3 player, but only because I'd had it in my pocket when everything hit the fan. And I didn't care. There was some laughter, some nodding--all that stuff that had tied us down was left behind in zombie territory, good as gone.
Again there is a blip in the dream or my memory of it. We're now travelling by truck/SUV, with a cousin of mine at the wheel, and she needs to stop for gas. We pull over to a Jetson-style automated gas station, where people are still lining up and going inside to pay and in general being very normal, but still my cousin crashes through the glass of the store to get what she wants; there'll be mass chaos soon enough from the zombies, right? Why go through the motions now? She warns us, as she backs in, to watch out for Romans, and I know she means Catholics and I cringe, because the breaking and entering may not bother me but the bigotry does.
Blip again! The large automated gas station is some sort of big rest area complex, and in part of it, I'm watching a villain test his henchmen. There are notes tacked to the walls with parts of nefarious plans written on them. I believe the test was something of a multiple choice scavenger hunt--find the note, answer the relevant question, move on through the traps/obstacle course, etc. The henchman, a greasy fat white guy with rasta pretensions, had apparently screwed up royally on the test, and so the boss, a very tall, very muscular black man with dreads, had his throat in hand and pressed him against the wall demanding answers.
The henchman, desperate, says, "All I can say is, um...my hand was made strong, by the hand of the Almighty...coz all I ever had--"
And the boss squeezes and says, "The next word out of your mouth had better not be 'redemption,'" as the henchman mouthed the word (being unable to breath and all).
And I admit that I smirked, because I understood his objection to little white rasta-wannabe boy singing "Redemption Song." Oh yes...
BLIP! I was sitting at a table in a tightly packed cafe or restaurant in the gas station complex. I was waiting for the family, but they were a no-show. Behind me was a large table full of very festive and talkative folks, singing along as the band played "Redemption Song." The villain entered, and we understood that he was the artist behind the song (though not any Marley). He approached the group to thank them for something, and I had stood at the wrong moment. He greeted me warmly and I explained that the folks he wanted were right behind me. It amused them, and him, because I could have kept my mouth shut and had a free ride there, but I told them I didn't want to take away anyone else's rightful [kudos?].
The group was led off by one henchman to their own little party or reward, but the villain and another henchman sat down with me. The henchman took my hand and I tried to shake his or to pull my hand away; he laughed at my social awkwardness, as did the villain, and said to just be still. He kissed my hand in a way that was definitely not gentlemanly, and sat a bit too close for comfort. I was nervous about screwing things up.
Notes and explanations
#1. In the past few years, May proved to be a very bad month for my family. The number of problems that befell us in previous Mays led to dread of the month: May is coming, what's going to go wrong now? The appearance of the old house and of my grandmother, both with May-ties, could be a timing issue, my brain noting the date and the history; I lose both in the dream again. It could also be a coincidence, as both have appeared in other dreams with no such meaning to them.
#2. I've been researching the Black Death and other plagues recently, as well as patron saints of orphans (Jerome Emiliani) and lost causes (Jude) and such. It explains our makeshift orphanage and the disaster, I believe, as well as the odd anti-Catholic remark from my dream-cousin, as there is the occasional bit of anti-Catholic history attached to the research. (In waking life, this cousin's son attends a Catholic school. So no real life bigotry spill-over there.)
#3. Zombies! I dream of zombies quite often, and once again, the zombies are terribly unfrightening in my dream. I wondered about them being children, but then realized that most of my dream zombies are children--children on the school bus become zombies, children at school become zombies, and I walk through the crowd as a child, usually.
#4. Even in the dream, I thought it damn cold-hearted of us to leave behind the children, and the adopted boy, and I wondered at us leaving all our stuff behind. At the same time, it was very liberating to cut all ties and run. Maybe it goes back to losing the old house, and leaving so much stuff behind because we had to leave in a rush.
#5. I've also been researching villains and evil plans lately. The villainous test element amused me, and maybe means I need to not approach the research in such a formulaic, schoolgirl kind of way.
#6. REDEMPTION SONG! I have fifteen-odd different covers of this song, and I'd say thirteen of them are by white artists.
#7. The Two Men are recurring figures in my dreams, usually villains, usually malignant caricatures, rarely wearing the same face twice. Though they were clearly appointed villains earlier and elsewhere in the dream, in the end element they were not threatening, except in that sort of lecherous, "Hey baby..." sort of way that speaks more of my social anxieties and ineptitude than anything else. It's almost pleasant to run into them again this way, though I know it means the dream has significant undertones I need to examine further.
#8. Race is occasionally important in my dreams, in the sense of identifying recurring figures (black woman = possibly the Black Lady = God), tying recurring figures together, poking me in my unrealized issues, and so forth. Superficially, it looks potentially significant that the Two Men were black and villains; I know my dreams have tied those two elements together before, and shown me that some of the prejudices I grew up with hadn't been cut from my brain quite as effectively as I'd thought.
Except that the pair is not really intimidating, in a real sense, and resembles a pair of men who've been flirty with me in waking life, just as they were flirty with me in the dream. So I think the issues being poked here aren't racially-related but socially-related, i.e., my sad, sad social skills.
