I visited the guest bedrooms in my house and found some young girls in there (cousins?). They had hidden away a good dozen or so friends of theirs who had run away from home. The girls were hiding in storage space. They begged me to not tell anyone. A couple of teenage boys appeared and they began to harm the girls in the room. Suddenly civil war broke out. I stepped outside and fishing hooks were being thrown around. I was pierced by fishing hooks twice while walking. POV left my body and entered the house again. A lady in my house was told to rape a man. She didn't seem too bothered by it, but while having sex with him, she saw a premonition of her future daughter dying at a young age--the daughter she saw was conceived during the rape. She sobbed and yelled "My daughter is dead" while holding onto the face of the man she was forced to have sex with. The man had already died. The dream moves on to a caretaker and the child she is raising. These women are starving. The caretaker gave chunks of her own flesh to ants, making the ants grow big and fat. She told her ward to take the ants and flee the house--the ants were to serve as food during the young lady's travels. The young lady does not wish to leave, but the caretaker yells at her, so the young lady escapes. The dream moves on to a group of men and a woman. They have been assigned the task of hunting down a man who has fled the house. This man has caught the gay disease. One man leads the others, trying to convince everyone and himself that being gay is not contagious. He does a poor job of convincing his group. Once they leave the house, they come across a flooded building with floating corpses. A few floors up, and there are sex/groping vending machines. They encounter the girl in the group, and while she is distracted by the sex machines, another man comes up behind her and has sex with her. The girl looks at the man and exclaims "Wow, you're really big." The man replies in a deep Batman voice, "Don't tell the Japanese." Apparently he did not want the Japanese to be jealous of him.
I am on a vast beach of pale yellow sands, under a pale orange sky. There are some dunes in front of me and the eerily calm ocean behind me. On the other side of the dunes is a large flat area where I can see several mounds from which smoke is pouring out. Upon closer inspection of these mounds I find that they are actually holes in the ground that are overflowing with smoldering debris. The burnt materials includes large chunks of wood and scraps of metal or plastic, and partial or complete bodies of dead children. The skin of the dead children was a ghastly gray colour where the flesh remained uncharred and completely black where it was. The uncharred, grey flesh was cracked and peeling, like it was made of leather or something. Their eye sockets were all empty and their tiny mouths agape as if in a perpetual silent scream. I suspect that these smoldering mounds were someone's attempt to cover up some horrific crime and I quickly retreat from there, feeling ill, angry and downright disturbed. I see a gathering of people in the dirtance and walk towards them. When I am close enough I can see that it is a large group of men, of varying ethnicities, wearing white robes and sitting in four large groups. The groups are arranged in four sqaure patterns and every man is sitting facing due wast. There are several men in black robes walking in slow circles around the large group. I am approached by one of these men and I notice as he gets closer that he is leading a child by the hand. The child looks exactly the same as the dead children in the smoldering mounds - gray, cracked skin, empty eye sockets, etc. except that this child is very much alive. The child's head turns in my direction, lips moving as if to say something, but the man in the black robe interupts and tells me that I am not welcome there, because I am a woman, before continuing on his way with the child in tow. I see that all of the men in black robes are leading living dead children around, and all of them divert from their circular march around the large group, at least once, to tell me to that I am not welcome there because women are not allowed. I ignore all of them and go where I damn well please. I try to get information about the dead children, and the condition of the living children, but no one will answer me, but neither does anyone try to force me to leave: they just express their disapproval of a woman being there, then go about their way. The sun begins to set and the large group of men in white robes begin to chant in a monotonous, unfarmiliar language. I skip through the gaps in their group and revel in the fact that I am someplace where I am not welcome, especially because of a trivial social construct such as gender. While I get a few angry or condescending looks, none of the men stop chanting or try to force me out. Since I cannot get any answers from anyone about the children, I eventually wander elsewhere.
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