(this is annie)

I had a dream that I was peacefully protesting in the streets of London, and gendarmes stormed our group. I ran from them, but they had shrill whistles that wounded our ears. I was captured by Henry Rollins, but he wasn't a police officer. He threw me and a woman with black hair into a room. He yelled at me and beat me and threatened to rape me. I rolled myself into the fetal position. He beat and locked up the other woman, and when he finally fell asleep after eating chicken, I slipped a HELP note out the window. SOS. HELP. WE ARE BY THE YELLOW SHIRT. But then I realized that Rollins was asleep, and I could slip out the window to escape. The girl was chained to the wall, and I didn't want to leave her alone, but I had to get out. I slipped out of the window and was on the roof of my parents' house. I leaped from it onto the ground, took off running, and saw my mother on the deck. She was wearing blue, and she came to me and comforted me.

I separately dreamed that I was friends with Tim Kinsella. I asked him what I'd done wrong, and he gently cupped my chin before saying, "We'll never know." He was protective of me, and he was close enough to the mystery to understand that it really wasn't my fault. In real life I do not know him, but he's close enough to the situation that I would believe him—a stranger—before the well-meaning friends who tell me that I didn't misstep.

Labels: sleep