NIGHTMARES

11. October 2009 by Frank.

Periodically, I have recurring nightmares.  They almost invariably take place in the factory I worked at for 23 years before I had the stroke and became a new man.  They always involve people I knew, whom I thought were my friends.  They always take place in the factory, which is quite recognizable even though it is always altered in some bizarre manner.  Tonight it was several thousand times bigger and employed thousands more bedraggled people.  It featured extremely odd material handling equipment including a spinning lift truck which shot out an enormous arm that grabbed objects with pinpoint accuracy before rapidly spinning back into a compact ball.

It was quitting time which was after midnight.  Everyone looked as if the life was completely drained out of them.  They were all dressed in shabby winter coats and other garb.  They shuffled past the time clock in a near zombie-like procession but then became incredibly nimble as they had to go to great lengths to dodge the aforementioned material handling machines in the parking lot.  These machines were moving every kind of container under the sun with completely disregard for the workers attempting to leave the plant.  Several groups were crushed under huge cargo crates but no one had time to notice because they were so busy trying to save themselves from the same fate.

By the time the workers made it to the far side of the parking lot there were only hundreds instead of thousands of them.  But they weren’t out yet.  The office building now had to be passed through.

This building was a labyrinth of featureless black glass panels.  People were crashing into invisible walls and being trampled to death when they fell.  The hundreds were reduced to tens and twenties.  These decimated groups made it up stairwells to a lighted section of the building.  At first it seemed empty but gradually there were signs of white collar workers in various cubicles.  They sat at computer terminals typing but they were all faceless.  Literally.

Then the remaining groups burst into an area that looked like a shopping mall.  It was almost entirely women’s clothing stores featuring pathetically bad clothing, brightly colored fabrics the were essentially just rags.  The women in the groups began ooh-ing and ah-ing and eventually started having orgasms as they hurried to touch the pretty fabrics.  They pulled all their money from their purses and coats and gladly threw it at the feet of the faceless minions who worked the stores.  Once they entered a store they never left.

The few remaining men took no notice of this but rushed on to the back side of the mall where there were several bars.  They rushed inside and began ordering beers.  They drank as fast as they could so they could order more.  They, too, spent every last penny they had.  They all drank themselves into a stupor which lasted all of five minutes before an alarm sounded and a voice announced that it was time for work.  They dutifully made their way back to the factory.

New workers were being brought in by the busload.  There were more familiar faces among them.  They trudged in and immediately began working, blank faced, glassy-eyed, and drooling.  Thus another workday had begun.

And thus I woke up unable to go back to sleep.  I used to wonder why I frequently woke up more tired than when I went to bed.  Vivid dreams like this are the reason; I’m far more physically active in the dream world than I am in real life.  This is what my brain is doing at 3 AM.

No wonder I’m worn out all the time.

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