Dream Journal: July 8th, 2014

I’m riding a bus. To where, I don’t know. But what I do know is that there is a man harassing a young lady in the back seat. She’s clearly uncomfortable and is looking for help, and nobody is coming to her aid, so I decided to get up and move to the back. By the time I get there, the man is getting more and more aggressive with his advances. I literally pick him up carry him down the aisle, all the way to the door. The driver pulls over and lets us out. I throw a right hand into this guys face, before shoving him away. Before I can get back on board, though, the driver has shut the door and sped off. Great.

With nowhere else to go, I walk into a processing plant. Once I enter, I instantly have a job, so I get right to work. Eventually, the shift ends, and everyone immediately forms a line at the back door. I go to do the same, until I remember that I left my bag sitting on a table. So I go to grab it, and once I do, I turn around to see that the entire plant is empty. For the second time, I’ve been left behind.

Time passes. Days or weeks, I’m not sure. Either way, I’m now hiding in some teenager’s closet. I’ve been living there for a while, trying not to be found out by his family. Of course, his dad does eventually figure out that I’m there, and after a phone call, a couple of armed guards arrive and haul me off to a large warehouse.

This warehouse is full of people either cowering by themselves, praying, or crying in huddled groups. I’m slowly beginning to realize why I’m in this building, as well. Everyone else is either Latino, Black, Asian, Indian, Women, Trans, or Gay.

Eventually, we’re all shipped to a city underground. It’s full of run-down apartment complexes and dingy bars. It has a dirty water supply. The food is unfrozen, spoiled tv dinners. The television only gets two channels: Fox News and static. And there are signs everywhere reminding us this is not a home, it’s just a hunting ground. At any point, tourists can come down, armed with whatever guns and ammo they can carry, and kill us for sport. And that’s my new life.

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