VivianVector

A slightly disturbing dream, but with all characters displaying a lot of agency and independence. The Sentinel also makes an appearance, a speechless recurring entity who seems to only appear in times of danger.

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I was sitting by the side of the road in my hometown with two friends. We were watching a television signal, using road signs to change programme, but the device was not always sensitive to understand our commands. We stood up and walked along the northern side of the river. I was only a child, and my two companions were comprised of my younger brother and the young daughter of a family friend.

I saw a list of names scroll through my mind. One name in particular I recognised; Yosif. We happened to be walking past his house. It was white weatherboard at the top of a hillside garden overlooking the river. He came out to greet us. He looked to be in his late forties, but took good care of his physique. He was of Mediteranean background, with olive skin, slick dark hair and a slight accent. I placed him in my memory; he had been a GP at a medical clinic a few towns over whom I had visited many years back. Despite being certain of this information in the dream, I know of nobody named of this description or profession in waking life.

Innocently, I told him that I had seen him once when I was unwell. He looked uncertain, but my young friend confirmed my memory. He invited us into his house, telling us that the television signal was much stronger inside. We laughed and followed him up through his garden. He took my brother's hand to help lead the way. I didn't know this man well and didn't really feel like spending time in his home, but I wasn't suspicious of him and didn't want to be impolite.

From the road, his home and garden seemed to be thriving, but walking up through the windy brick paths it became apparent that it had fallen into disarray. Weeds struggled up through the dry earth, the grass was left dying, and the few standard roses still remaining were losing their leaves. Even the house itself was not looking healthy. The white weatherboards were dirty and some had rotted away. He picked up my friend and rested her on his hip, leading us through the garage behind his house. He opened a wooden gate for us, and held it open as we walked through. The dream characters of my brother and friend merged into a single 'child' entity, and the third position of our trio was filled by a young man whom we knew and trusted. He always appeared in dreams to aid me in times of danger, often long before I had even become aware of the threat.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I felt something was wrong. It was naught but a high-fenced pen. I turned to object to Yosif, only to see the door being closed behind me. I kicked with enough force to stagger him and made my escape. Yosif was distraught that I had spoiled his game. He started busying himself about the house while crying and tearing his hair. I hid nearby in the garden. I heard a woman's voice from inside his house, but she was speaking to me telepathically. I was annoyed at first, believing her to be his well-meaning but ultimately complicit wife.

"He drowns the children in a deep puddle beside the fence. Sometimes, he likes to submerge his own face in the water as well so that he can share in their experience." She told me. "The weeds in the puddle are a greater hazard than the water itself. The children choke on them."
On this information, I rushed over to the puddle and started to clear all the vegetation, raking the mud below. The water was grey like run-off and I couldn't see below the surface. She cautioned me against trying.
"Afterwards, he buries their bodies beneath the puddle so the other children have to look at the faces of the dead while they drown."

Disturbing, to say the least.

She told me to go and stay out of sight while she made a phone call and then rushed from the house across to the neighbouring property.
"I'm coming with you," I said, and cut across the garden to join her. I assumed she was going to call the police. I was relieved my older friend had appeared and been caught as well. He wouldn't go down easily, and may intimidate Yosif long enough for the cops to arrive.

I followed the woman into her home, an impressive mansion. There were many well-kept sprawling rooms devoted to displays of cultural artefacts which were open to the public. It was much like a small museum. She ducked into a side room and began to speak hastily on the phone. I looked around. This area contained many pieces of Japanese origin; scrolls of calligraphy and maritime implements. There was a scale model of an ancient Japanese whaling ship which caught my attention.

I noticed a man in one of the rooms with an attendant. He looked to be her adult son; spiky blonde hair and well-built. He had a tattoo of lettering in black and red across his chest. As he was putting on his robes, I saw this his right hand and most of his right leg were missing, but he still had his foot and could move it at will. When he had finished dressing, he looked quite scholarly, and I followed him from his room.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me what this place is?" I asked.
"This is the Temple of Apollo," he said, unsure as to how I could be here without knowing where I was. The artefacts in this room definitely had a more European flavour, but I didn't notice anything distinctly Hellenistic.
"Oh, I didn't realise given the asian influence in the other room," I said and walked off. He followed curiously.
"This wasn't here yesterday. They must have changed it," he said.

The museum was quite intriguing and had many patrons. There were model ships and spaceliners, bottles of googly eyes in every size, and fantastic pieces of antique art; a conglomeration of humanity's existence.