Moratorium (Mortuary) of Dead Animals

Date: 12/13/2018

Precursor: The animals were part of a recurring dream, in fact. I do not remember when I had the first dream, I believe it was last Sunday night, but I remembered that the forest where the animals lived was familiar and I had even camped there once at a cabin (on a “family” camping trip with Jessica, another woman, and a brother who was vaguely similar to Brandon from “The Fosters”. All I remember was that there was a crow in that dream that I kept trying to help escape. He wanted to escape from the world, but I think ultimately he was found and the dream ended. In this dream, there was a pier extending from these high cliffs that were similar to what was found in Ireland (and yet in another dream, I was also running from an army of soldiers there during nighttime and I realize know that the bluff—which transitioned from meadows to a tundra—and the pine woods was vaguely similar to Shelburne Farms) and the thing that all these places have in common is that they are persecution grounds. I do not remember the plot of this dream, except a few critical moments. I had a flashback to the latter dream in this dream, but all the animals (a crow, a giraffe, a lioness, a sheep, and other typical safari animals) were dead and hanging from strings. It focused especially on the glossy eyes of the crow, whom it felt like was trying to tell me to go but I was not listening. I was saddened and concerned, and while scared of the crow and what was going to happen to me, was actively confused and had to figure out why such a thing happened. So I ordered a taxi. I also remember a scene with a bonfire, and the feeling of having found a community at whatever place this was despite it not being a safe home for long. Then I remember leaving. When we were driving into “Shelburne Farms”, it started out as a long road whose trees faded into hilly tundra grounds with only coniferous shrubs and dry brown grass. And that was when I saw them. The dead animals. These were things called “moratoriums” that were perversions of circus rides, and there were multiple of them (three, I think, but I knew there were more). There was one tall pole in the middle, with the glossy-eyed crow floating about a foot on top, but he was dead. I knew it. He had nothing to say to me. Then there were other wooden pillars around it, each with a dead animal atop. I remember now that it was a tigress, not a lioness, that was more significant to me. It was a horrifying sight to see all them entombed, yet there was a certain comical air to see the giraffe hanging there (I think they might have also been hanging from strings, I can’t remember). All the while, the taxi driver who was like my driver’s ed teacher, was chatting with me and smiling, and trying to make life, I didn’t realize although I felt an inkling of distress in the situation, forcing me to drop my guard due to his friendless even though I didn’t want to. So, at one point, the road became bumpy and he feigned falling over and grabbing me for support, but it was obvious what he was trying to do. He leaned over, and his hand gently squeezed my right breast. At first, he laughed about so I smiled falteringly, awkwardly, then he laughed and tried to make some bullshit excuse about it but then I stopped laughing and confronted him. “Did you grab my breast?” I asked, angrily. Then his whole demeanor changed, and in instant he let go of the well and practically jumped toward me with hands outstretched while I remember waking up as I screamed aloud “No!” and opened the door. I still remember the psychopathy and neurotic look in his eyes. I think the dream was telling me that my compassion puts me in vulnerable places where I unknowingly become vulnerable to the malintentions of bad people. And sooner or later, it will have disastrous consequences. But this time, I was prepared to fight although it evaporated instantly into fear and flight. Although I knew I could have won.