This Might Have Been the Worst Dream Ever

I made myself write this down at 2 a.m. this morning, knowing that if I didn’t, I’d forget it. Here is my dream only minutes after it transpired.

It’s an empty office banquet room, with a white floor, white walls, no furniture, and forty or so hopefulls, equally men and women, for a new reality series. Only, the producers never tell the people what it’s about. Finally, the doors open, and wheeled in is a large table with large pieces of wood, mostly two-by-fours.

The contestants, all nervous in anticipation, are finally given the instructions. And no one believes what they’re hearing. They’re supposed to start beating each other with the two-by-fours.

Everyone stands there, motionless. No one wants to do it. But one guy, an attractive, slender fellow with dirty blond hair and a chiseled face, starts clobbering people.

Others yell at him to knock it off, but then they start hitting him. And the next thing you know, a riot ensues. Everyone’s wailing on each other with the two-by-fours.

Most are reluctant participants, hitting only to avoid being hit. It’s kill or be killed on this reality show.

The most aggressive fair the worst. Eventually, everyone is beating each other, to the death. It all happens in silence. There is blood everywhere. It doesn’t stop until there are four women standing. It is not clear if this was planned by the producers to stop at four, but none seemed interested in fighting, and they just stopped.

A white, attractive woman in a business suit comes out and congratulates the women and tells them they’ve made it to the next round. It will be in a small coastal town near Bolinas that no one’s ever heard of, and they’ll be taking the train. Won’t that be fun? Only, the women don’t want to go on to the next round. They want to get out of there, except for one, who is torn between dreading the worst, and riding the train. She loves riding the train, even though, when she’s not deep in sleep, she knows full well that there’s no train that goes anywhere near Bolinas. And no, no train ride is worth what they want her to do.

The women protest. They want out. But they can’t leave, they’re told. They’ve signed the contracts. They have no choice. They have to get on the train to the next destination. Other potential destinations were revealed, should they survive, such as the Amazon Forest and other locations in South America. These would be dream trips for most anyone, but not under these conditions.

They arrive at a grand, skyscraper hotel in a small, unknown town near Bolinas, that has floors and floors of slot machines.

For our dreamer, what makes this sceen particularly stressful is that she’s wearing ear plugs, and she can’t hear anything. So, while there’s a lot of movement, it all happens in complete silence, aside from the producers telling the contestents what they have to do, and it all sounds muffled. Most of the instructions, in fact, do not come in words, but in thoughts. Mouths don’t even move.

The four women, once having arrived in their hotel rooms, decide to plan an escape. They sneak out, narrowly avoiding the six body guards assigned to keep watch over them. Now that they’ve complained so many times about the rules of the game, they’re considered high risk.

They make it all the way down to the main lobby, only to find they must now stand in line to wait for the next cab, knowing any second that they may be spotted by a body guard. The body guards are the size of football players.

At long last, an empty cab arrives, and they file in, three in the backseat, and one in the front. The cabbie is an older fellow, in his late sixties, with buzzed, greying hair, and hair coming out of his ears. He informs the women that it’s time for his break, and he starts to get out of the car.

They plead with him to go, just go. They’ll pay extra, just go, please go. To the airport? he asks. No, the bodyguards will figure out we’re there. You can take us all the way to Alameda, they say.

He begins the journey, and the women duck at every possibility that they might be spotted. The wet streets are brightly lit, and there are people roaming the streets, without words. 

Soon, it is clear that he’s not driving anywhere. He’s just taking random turns through town. He is not a cabbie at all, but obviously affiliated with the show. This becomes evident when his yellow cab somehow turns into a white 1960 Cadillac, with the fins. The women didn’t get into a cab at all, but a tourist trap.

Now the one of the women is in the center of a dark, bleak apartment courtyard. All the exits are blocked with metal gates, and she can see a bodyguard watching her from the other side. There is no escape, so her only choice is to levitate to a higher floor.

In some dreams, she can levitate herself to entirely new destinations, but here, she can only make it to a top floor. She cannot get into the door, but she has a gun, with a silencer, so she shoots open the lock to get in. There she’s met by the other women, who’d all run up the stairs. How to get out, through an airvent?

They run into a bathroom, and see a vent above the counter, in a corner. As they make the decision to climb through it, they are met by a man with long, curly gray hair and a missing tooth. He’s wearing a doctor’s smock. One of the women says it doesn’t matter who he is, because at least he’s not a body guard, let’s go.

This is when I woke up,because I really had to go to the bathroom. But what made that scary was that the silence continued even as I went down the hallway, because I still had the earplugs without knowing, making it tough to discern if I was still in the dream. Unfortunately, I could not levitate myself out of the situation. I took the earplugs out instead. I decided I’d rather hear my cat meow all night.

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About katiekelly

I grew up in a parking lot.
This entry was posted in Random Ramblings. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to This Might Have Been the Worst Dream Ever

  1. lauren says:

    good god! you’ve got some wild stuff going on there.

    it’s interesting how dreams tend to end somewhere near or in the bathroom when you have to go pee.

  2. or they end up in a bed-wetting situation if you dream that you’re in the bathroom but you’re really still in bed.

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