Cez Presents: Dreams of the dead

Date: 6/17/2018

Today, I had two different dreams. Both felt less like dreams and more like lives of people who were deceased. The first was of an Islamic high school for girls in the Middle East. From what I could tell from the surroundings it could have easily been Pakistan or Afghanistan, but not present day. They had a dress code, having the girls were long grey or black skirts with socks underneath. They had an adequate school with three floors, with a beaming principal. Every room had a shiny new black board. One day, a group of men came from the nearby villages. They did not like that the girls came over to school unattended, or that they wore skirts that showed their ankles. The principal protested, but the men rounded up the girls and shot them point blank in a row. The unfortunates were dragged, beaten and publicly molested on the third floor. The principal was forced to watch everything. Several girls tried to hide inside of their lockers. Unlike most lockers, the cubbies were all connected and had no dividers separating the lockers apart. They crouched in between the space as they watched in horror as the men opened up each locker door. That is the last thing I remember in this dream. The next dream had me in it. I was sitting on a stoop reading on my phone news articles. They reported that Anne White, supposedly one of the first female track runners, had died. She lived from (1914-2018). It struck a nerve with me, and I researched more about her. When she was young, she competed endlessly with her little sister for attention, until she finally moved out and rebelled by running track and field non competitively. However, based on the article, she was invited to run in the Olympics during WWII. To commemorate her, I wrote down her favorite custard recipe, and started making it. I heard my mother on the phone with my grandmother. "I don't understand their need to preserve history, yes, yes, that's what they called it. I mean, the woman's dead! Why do we need a recipe of hers? We didn't even know this lady." Our kitchen looked more like a checked lawn with a kitchen in the middle of it. No windows, no walls. Just tile and expensive appliances. I hid on top of a tall pillar over looking the kitchen, made of carved wood. But it was too late and my mom noticed me. "Hey! Put that down right now!" She pointed to a Lime green wig I was holding and I tossed it down. "Come down right now!" She cried out. I pushed myself over the ledge, holding onto the edge. "Not that way!! The way you came!" But I instantly lost grip and fell, waking up in real life.