28.08.2009 Prison (Non-lucid)
NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID
I was leaving a mall, when I had to cross a little bridge on the second story to get outside. There were a bunch of cops with German shepherds shining flashlights (electric torches) in my face. I didn't know what was going on. They shoved me on the ground, and cuffed me. I was held down there for a long time. "Yup, there's a warrant out for his arrest," I heard one of them say.
I lost the details of the next part of the dream. I remember I went to jail, but I got released, and then went back to the facility with my mom to visit someone, probably my cousin who is in prison right now, and got busted with me for graffiti a couple months ago.
I was back at the prison, which seemed minimal security, yet still a depressing place to be. It was at night. My mom and I separated, she in the car, and I on foot to look for the admin building. Visiting hours were over. I tried to find an exit. I didn't want to look like someone fleeing. I walked toward a gate. I walked to the guard house. He came out before I got there.
"Can I help you with something?" he asked sternly. The gate guard was a tall Caucasian man, dressed like a cop.
"I'm just trying to find my way out."
"Well, visiting hours are over. Inmates are not allowed to walk around the facility freely. You need to get back inside. You must be new here."
"No, I'm not supposed to be here," I explained, "I'm just visiting someone." As I lifted up some papers to show him, he raised his voice, "Hey, what's that in your hand?"
"Just papers," I said. "See, these are the visitation forms."
"Easy there. Slowly now," he commanded. He took the papers from me, and looked at them. "Hmm, yeah. If you're a visitor, you should've turned these in much earlier, at the time of your visit."
I tried to explain to him that my mom and I couldn't find the administration builidng at the beginning of the visit, so we just decided to look for it afterward since we didn't have much time.
"Yeah," he looked at me suspiciously. "Got I.D.?" I felt for my wallet. I had forgot it at home.
"Oh shit!" I involuntarily cursed, "I forgot it at home."
"Well," he smirked, "it looks like you are going to have to stay here until we get this all sorted out." He said "sorted out" in a very sarcastic manner, patronizing me. "Turn around please." I obeyed not wanting to get tackled, choked, tasered, or pepper sprayed. He cuffed me. "Damn," I thought, "this bullshit again."
I was on a basketball court with high fences that had locks on the gates. There were a bunch of people in street clothes who had just gotten "picked up" and were awaiting processing. A couple people were pacing back and forth on cel phones. "What?" I thought, "I didn't know we could use our cels." I decided to try and sneak a call home. I dialed my parents' home number. I got the answering machine. "Hey, yeah... I'm in jail, again. I don't know how you just left without me, mom, but yeah. Here I am. So, come get me. Now if you can. I am not even supposed to be here." I sighed and hung up.
I saw a friend of mine, P., who is one of the most genuine Christians I have ever met. He was slowly walking around aimlessly through the sea of us sitting on the floor. "Weird. I wonder why he is here. They grab everyone, I guess," I thought.
There were both genders in the basketball court, but mostly men. Everyone seemed like regular everyday people. They all were agitated, and seemed confused.
We were ordered inside and assigned beds in different rooms. There were about four beds in a room. It was more like the dorms at a military school I went to. They took away our personal belongings, and gave us bedclothes and sleepwear. As I was placing my stuff on the bed, a prison guard turned off the light and ordered us to go to sleep.
The next morning, I heard some female voices in the hall. (I had heard one of the the guys in the room with me mumble something about boobies the night before.) Three attractive slutty-looking girls walked in the room. For some reason, they were dressed like grunge rockers from the 90's; white T-shirts, black jeans, Doc Marten's boots, flannels tied around their waists, and silver jewelry. The prettiest one, a Latina chick with a ponytail, long eyelashes, and too much make-up said, "Yeah, so how you boys doing? Do you like boobies?" She giggled. One of her friend lifted up her shirt, revealing perfect B-cups. This was obviously against the rules, so no one hollered and cheered, but the same guy from the night before bugged his eyes out, and quietly whispered, "boobies!" She dropped her shirt and walked out of the room. Another girl lifted up her shirt and smiled. I admired these girl's perfect breasts. Then, I realized they were some kind of a prostitution ring. They were not supposed to be on our floor. Then I saw J., my last lover, standing in the corner of the room behind the other women. I guess she had snuck in with them. She was wearing a long sleeved, red, button down shirt. I knew she wasn't with them. "How did she know I was here? Why is she here?"
The other women left. J. made eye contact with me, suppressing a smile. She held a folded up piece of paper in her hand up to her heart. She walked over to my desk and set the paper on it, and silently walked away. I quickly stuffed it in my pocket.
"This must be her address, I thought. There is no other way for her to contact me, since she doesn't know my address, and can't call or anything. But, why is she here? I wonder what she did. That is so messed up." I walked out into the hall, and I watched her walk away without turning around.
"Damn," I thought as I walked back in the room. "Well, I least I saw some boobies. I am not going to feel bad about that!" I decided to be grateful I saw some boobies even though I was in prison. I made my bed, got into my prison day clothes, and walked back out into the hall.
I walked down the hall to the end. There was a window. I stared longingly out the window at the grass and the trees. I wanted to escape. I returned back from where I came, and I saw a bunch of people going down a flight of stairs hurriedly. I thought I should probably go with the flow. There was a huge window, two stories high, next to the stairs. Some prison guards in formal uniforms were raising a giant American flag on a pole right outside the window. The flag was about forty feet long, and 25 feet high. I wondered why they were doing it at noon. Outside was bright and green, with all the bushes, trees, hedges, and grass well manicured.
Everyone stopped and faced the flag, hands on their hearts, saying either the Pledge of Allegiance, or singing the National Anthem softly. I couldn't tell which. There was music playing, but I didn't pay much attention to it. All the prisoners halfheartedly dropped their hands toward the end of the song before it was over. There were some cops playing cards on the landing of the stairs, who stopped playing their game, but they did not stand, or take off their hats, or acknowledge the flag was being raised in any way except for pausing their game. The cops were all fat bastards in lazy semi-reclining positions. I saw one of the cops lick his finger sloppily before he selected a card from his hand and set it on a small ugly pale-green 70's style wavy table.
It looked like everyone was going to lunch. I didn't care about food. I returned to the second floor and walked down the hall toward the room I was assigned. I walked to the end of the hall where I had been gazing out the window.
I saw an open door with a couple steps leading down to what looked like a classroom that had been abandoned and used for storage. I walked in. I saw some dusty butcher paper, broken chairs, and other random dusty office stuff. Then, I noticed my bamboo didjeridoo was sitting there, gathering dust.
"Those fuckers!" I thought. "How the hell did they get my didj, and why do they have it?" I picked it up, and examined it. A random female prison guard, and T., the big Hawaiian man, were suddenly in the room with me, behind me. He was wearing a white collared shirt.
"What is that you have in your hand?" the woman asked suspiciously. I noticed there were cracks going up the side of the didjeridoo from the bottom. "It's- it was my didjeridoo."
"Really?" she asked, doubtful. "Play it for us."
"Well, it's kind of broken." I grabbed at the split parts of the wood and began breaking them off, hoping to shorten the didjeridoo, but leave the rest intact. T. saw me struggling, and felt sorry for me, so he pulled out a pocketknife and help me cut them off. I knew he wasn't supposed to do it, so I was grateful.
The splits went all the way the didjeridoo anyway. It was ruined. I saw another smaller bamboo didjeridoo. It also had splits going up it. I grabbed it and inspected it. I tried to fix it, but made it worse. I threw on the floor. "It's ruined," I said dejectedly.
"Well, you can hear me throat sing," I said.
"Go for it," the woman said, crossing her arms.
Just then, I looked out the window, and saw a stream with a grassy slope going down toward it, and a fence. There were three women in Chinese peasant clothes and coolie hats being watched by a prison guard walking through a gate in a chain link fence. There was another prison on the other side of the stream. The women were being forced to weed around the fence to make it look pretty. I felt so sorry for them. "What a bunch of bullshit. What a bunch of wasted effort. What a way to forcibly waste another's life," I thought. I was angry and deeply sad. I felt like crying. I decided that I was going to sing to those prisoners even though they couldn't hear me. I started singing softly to myself, and slowly let my volume increase. I was overwhelmed with emotion. The emotion of the moment woke me up, and the song is in my head still. As I write this, I am in tears thinking about all the oppressed people in China, and all the Americans locked up in prison for years over bullshit.
This was the longest dream I have ever remembered, which makes it very significant.
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