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    Thread: interrogated by Jack Nicholson look-a-like. Didn't kiss me.

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      interrogated by Jack Nicholson look-a-like. Didn't kiss me.

      No Grammar check... From straight from DJ. Just a dream!! I was sick when I wrote this so please be gentle.
      __________________________________________________ ___
      Non-lucid: The dream started was like I was at a Christmas Party at my brother's house.
      Then the dream morphed into where I recall that I followed a guard in front of him dutifully, replacing my feet where the round-toed boots had been previously, I was careful to keep up as the guard behind me. I was taken, Hostage. The guard pressed the barrel of a gun lightly against my spine. We stopped at the door to a room that was located down a long, empty corridor.
      The room was poorly lit in comparison to the bright hallway although I could make out a single table and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. I was pushed firmly into one seat and a DC who looked like Jack Nicholson, sat on the other, leaning forwarded across the table as my hands were fastened to the back of my chair. “Shall we begin?” His voice was harsh and cold, a bored drawl as if he would rather be anywhere else. I nodded in reply and twisted my wrists slightly in the tight restraints to maintain the circulation of blood to my hands.
      “Where were you set to visit after Deerfield?” The DC questioned first. I bit the inside of my mouth.
      The DC smirked and repeated the question just as calmly. I didn't answer.
      “You know what I think?” He asked, “I think you knew exactly where you were going.” His voice sounded hoarse.
      "Go to hell!! "I yelled, then I spat in his face. The DC wiped his face with his sleeve and then hit me with an old fashion telephone that appeared out of nowhere. I can feel an instant egg form on the side of my face... The pain was unbearable. I groaned in pain.
      “It’s a shame.” The DC’s voice took on a hint of anger, “I thought the events of yesterday would make you a little easier to deal with. It seems that your tongue needs loosening somewhat."
      At that point in the dream, I was released from the chair upon his orders and stood up again.
      The scene changed. I was now led down another long corridor was an equally dim room, this one only containing one seat. I was positioned in the solitary chair and immediately noticed the difference; restraints were tightened around my wrists and then my legs were fastened securely with similar cuffs at the base of the chair.
      “You see, we operate a little out of the way of the American government’s watchful eyes,” he explained, “So, we can enter uncharted waters with our techniques, if we need to. I will warn you now, this is your last chance to talk.” He said formally as if he wasn’t supervising an illegal interrogation. “All we wanted was a location, it could have been much easier.” His beady eyes were completely black in the weak light, pricked with a shining white reflection and anger. I flexed my hands in the restraints to distract myself from the noises around my head.
      Two needles appeared in my eye line and my muscles clenched involuntarily. The evil Dream Character smirked at the sight and patted the arm nearest to him.
      “I would try to relax if I were you,” he instructed, “We wouldn’t want to cause you any unnecessary pain!!” I recall that shied away from the touch but I went slack under the grip, blinking harshly at the prick of a needle in my skin followed by another in my other arm.
      “Barbiturate in one arm,” His voice seemed to grow distant as a cool fluid seeped up my veins. My eyes began to slip closed as I lost the sensation of the metal against my skin. “Amphetamine in the other.”
      A few moments later, a similar sensation crept up my other arm and my eyes snapped open at the conflicting effects of the two drugs. It alternated like this for some time, eyes first slipping closed and then being forced open again. Finally, I seemed to settle in a halfway state, unable to comprehend much but, I was painfully aware of surroundings despite the tunnel vision.
      At one point I lost bladder control. I can feel urine was flowing freely and the stench of the ammonia running down the chair.

      Then the scene changed and I woke up. I was now at school and it was like fall. Apparently, it was the first day back at school. Saw the two guys that I knew from school, Pat Merrill and some British guy. I don't remember his name. They got kicked out of college in real life because of drinking, In real life. The other guy came back that same year to pick up some stuff. He told one of the Resident Aids, in my dorm that he had planted a bomb in my dorm. It was a lie.
      Then the scene changed again, and I was in a classroom, and I was in a wheelchair. I was wheeled in. I was sitting at a table in front of the class. Next to the teacher. I could remember that I felt like I was boiling and then freezing. That is until I sneezed. It was loud, but nothing out of the ordinary.
      “What? You’re sweating bullets. I thought to myself. People in the classroom just glared at me.
      So, I recall saying rather out loud, "I need to get the Fuck out of here!!" I was not feeling well and the teacher didn't stop me. The teacher was very tall, thin and dark hair with classes.
      I recall making my way out the door and hallways of the school. The hallway in the dream reminds me of hallways at my old grade school. Then I made my way slowly to the kitchen for some cough medicine, a blanket wrapped around me like a shawl, that appeared out of nowhere.
      “Are you okay?” Kevin asked, an eyebrow raised at my state of being. I recall that my hair was matted and sticking to my now very clammy forehead, my skin pale and glistening with sweat. According to my best friend, Kevin, I practically looked like a zombie.
      My other Friend Boothy had followed Kevin to the kitchen, as they both had the same idea. Upon seeing how sick I looked- like really looked- they were concerned. "No, you are not okay," Booth stated. "You want to stop it before it starts, take it from someone who used to get sick all the time. Trust me."
      I recall saying “No, no. You guys really don’t have to do anything,” My words were cut off with a coughing attack, “I’m a grown up. I can take care of myself,” Then I barely made it to the fridge for a bottle of water before my aching muscles gave out on me.
      Then I recall being taken back into the hallway and laid down on the ice-cold floor as a nurse injected me with a syringe.
      I remember saying, "I can't be sick this weekend! I had to babysit my sister's dogs. One dog as some bladder issues because she was in an accident and the other, well, he's just a puppy and will poop everywhere when you don't pay attention." Then everything went dark and I woke up.
      Last edited by Ic161; 01-04-2019 at 08:11 AM.
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