Totalitarian Work Camps Aren’t What You’d Expect

Dreams 07.05.13
I was on a mini bus in a new town packed with people. Music was blaring. I looked over at my friend who I was staying with wondering when our stop would be. When I looked around at the people, listening to the loud music, I noticed no one was talking to each other, even people who got on and off the bus together, because the music was too loud. Suddenly I thought we lived in a totalitarian society. Everyday these workers would get trucked to the work farm, perhaps not all of them would return…

At every stop, about a third of the mini bus would empty and be filled up again by others. Finally it was our stop. My friend made eye contact with me and indicated that it was time to go. I should mention that my friend was a pretty blond woman, not that this detail has any significance. She isn’t even real.

When we got off the bus, our little group flowed in with the current of people, all getting off their buses, following paths that converged like blood vessels, up a sloped hill towards a crazily designed but ginormous building. It had huge curves up and down and there was a tunnel/ entrance that the path led towards and everyone marched on. I noticed then that everyone wore similar trench coats either in dark grey, dark blue or variation of that shade in between. I could almost hear the stomping of our feet constantly almost becoming in sync to the steady same rhythm.

When my friend and I were close to the tunnel entrance we passed by a window close enough that I could a glimpse inside. There was an old grey haired half balding man standing in front a group of teenaged uniformed children. He looked stern. My friend whispered in my ear, “That’s your building. Go in, I’m heading another way.” Then I looked back at her and the current of people had split into two, carrying her off to a building I could see in the distance. She gave me a reassuring face and I understood that she would find me at days’ end.

As soon as we stepped inside the building, everything changed. When we were inside inside, where there were n’ windows or light from the outside, I now found myself down a long hallway that had a mild slope upwards. The hallway actually looked like a curved road up. The walls were brick and lit up in orange and red light. Large chandeliers along the middle of the ceiling gave the room a warm glowy ambient light. Along the middle of the hall were long buffet tables filled with food, desserts and drinks. There were fountains of chocolate, wine, soft drinks, meats, cakes, etc. The people in trench coats were no longer walking in a uniform group. In fact there was no group at All. Everyone was running around merrily, rushing up to fill their wines cups, stuffing their faces with food. They were screaming and laughing in delight. Their uniforms were a mess. There was food on the floor in some places, sometimes even a drunken person who had passed out.

It was so chaotic in there and such a contrast to the scene outside that I was confused. Although I did not know what to expect, his was not at all what I expected. I kind of stood there not knowing what to do. Someone shoved a goblet in my hand, looked at me with a drunken grin and pointed at the direction of the drinks station. Then he was off chasing some girl. I took up his suggestion and timidly went up to the drinks station. People around me were going so nuts that several times I was bumped into and almost lost my cup while heading towards to the drinks station. I remember reading the drinks labels and filled my cup with one of the milder, fruitier tasting wines. Then I wandered around that table and almost walked behind another food station, where there were actually two “chefs”. They were tall, Mexican or South American native looking and they just looked angry.  The didn’t say a word but obviously I stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have so I backed away and went back to the hallway where people were running around.

I kept walking up the sloped hall and eventually the line of buffet tables ended and things were quieter.  Although you could still hear the sounds of revelry echoing along the brick walls. I went down a hallway to where there were two doors. The left door lead to a room that I thought I was supposed to report into. The right door was slightly ajar. On my way to the left door, I pass by the gap and see Robert Carlyle’s character Rumplestiltskin inside. However his, skin and his appearance was slightly different than the show. Parts of his skin had become neon colored and he was actually in the middle of transforming himself. I paused briefly to look but stopped myself. Just as I was about to move on, he caught me looking and stepped out of the room. I was afraid, not sure if he was mad or not. When he came out, I saw that his face had changed again and his eyes were sewn shut and he had a very distinct pattern of bright red, about to pop pimples on his face. He asked me, “What do you think?” He was dressed in a burnt tailed tuxedo with a top hat but by his pose, I think he meant to be dashing. I also wasn’t sure if he was just baiting me so I tried to joke, “Your face looks like that of a teenager.” Then he goes, “Ah that’s not working out for you eh?” Then he changed himself back to his regular Rumplestiltskin appearance.

I headed towards the left door and he followed behind me.  That’s when I realized I was reporting into this room, to him. The room I entered was like an old Victorian office/library. It had a heavy desk taking up a lot of space, with bankers lamps, bookshelves lines every wall and a large ornamental carpet. It was musty and dusty. I could see from the window’s light that dust particles freely floated in the room. There were two other people, one taller and one about my height, standing in the middle in a line-up, waiting. It looked like I was supposed to join the line.

Then I forget what happened. Maybe the dream ended.

A little while after I woke up though I recalled something else, something sexual yet I don’t remember actually dreaming about it at all. (Warning this next part is explicit) I distinctly remembered the action of being bent over, looking back at my lover (I can’t remember who) and guiding his “part” towards me. He misses, so then I guide him in. Strangest thing is I haven’t had any sexual contact in months but the memory when I suddenly recalled it seemed so recent. Anyway, I thought I must’ve dreamt about it last night in another dream.


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