(These two dreams follow on from the previous uncompleted dream of assassination)
Dream 1: A secret
This dream starts with a flashback within the dream.
I am a university student and we are at some sort of demonstration on campus. We are at the lower end of the campus, where we used to go for our Biochemistry classes. A bunch of us are holding placards and chanting loudly as we parade down the main walkway of UNSW.
Suddenly I become aware of a mob of people off to the side, near some benches. They are tying a boy onto a stake, some sort of home made cross. The boy is young, perhaps a first year or second year. He protests loudly and struggles as the others secure his arms, then his legs. I am drawn to them like flies to rubbish, unable to tear my eyes away. Soon I find that I am also pulling at some of the ropes to tie down his feet. He keeps kicking them away and it takes several people to overcome him.
We wind the rope all around him and secure his chest to the main part of the stake. We tie him so tightly to the stake that he cannot breathe. We stand back and watch as he slowly begins to fade, his protests becoming weaker and weaker. Finally his eyes roll back in his head and he becomes still. His chest is no longer moving and he has stopped breathing. As the blood stops circulating, his face becomes an ashen grey.
The flashback ends and I am in the present time again. I'm on a bus, sitting near the middle door. The bus stops and a morbidly obese man enters from the front door. He seems to be struggling to breathe, sweating heavily as he takes a seat at the four seats facing each other near the front of the bus. From where I sit, he is just 3 rows away, facing me.
He does not look well. His face is purple and his lips are slightly blue. I think that he probably has some sort of lung condition and is totally puffed out from the short ascent to the bus.
The bus lurches to a start and a couple of guys come up from behind.
Hey man! What are you doing here? They shout at the breathless purple man.
I see a flash of fear enter his eyes. He tries to get up, but he stumbles and falls back into his seat.
The other two guys are on him in a flash. One of them has a thick rope in his hand, and the two of them start to tie the purple man to the bus seat.
I want to call out to the bus driver to stop. I feel a sudden flash of anger - can't he see what's going on? It's only a few metres from where he is sitting!
The two men are arguing with each other now, one person blaming the other for not bringing a long enough rope. They struggle to get the rope around the girth of the purple man's abdomen. He shouts for help but there is no one else on the bus.
I want to get up and help the purple man, but I am totally glued to the seat and unable to move. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. I want to help him, but there is a vivid thought on my mind that I'm not helping him because I am actually a killer, since I participated in the other death on campus.
The men continue to struggle while the bus rolls through the suburbs without making any stops.
I have to do something. I think to myself. It's up to me to do something, I have to!
But still I am stuck to my seat, a mute witness to the struggle.
Finally the men give up trying to tie him around his large body, and instead they put the rope around his neck like a noose. They grab one end each and start walking towards the opposite ends of the bus.
The purple man's hands grip around the noose but he is unable to loosen it even a touch. He loses his voice and his eyes bulge out. His face goes from a purple to a bluish grey colour.
Then he dies, and I wake up. Full of shame that I was not able to stop the killing.
Dream 2: A laneway in Toronto
In this dream, I am just outside Emily's apartment in Toronto. I have a key, and I let myself in.
Inside it is completely still. There is no sound and no movement. There are no smells of recent cooking or that of cats. The curtains are drawn in the living room and the place is dark. I try to turn the lights on but they are not working. I open one of the curtains slightly and the big electronic advertising boards outside cast some light into the apartment. It looks like her real apartment, but it does not feel real - does she still live here? I wonder.
I close the curtain and return the apartment to darkness. I carefully lock the door and head out onto the street. I walk along Queen St and then head south on Yonge St. The time of year must be about now - slightly chilly and a little windy, typical Toronto fall.
On Yonge St I pass by several cafes and restaurants full of people who are laughing and chatting.
Who are these people and why are they so happy? I think bitterly.
I keep walking south and start to lose where I am - somewhere between Adelaide and Richmond? I see a small side lane and feel a strong urge to go down the lane.
In the lane it is almost completely dark. There is a tiny bit of light from the streetlights on Yonge but within a few steps, I am immersed in darkness.
Hey! Fancy seeing you here! Emily emerges from the darkness. I think she had been in a doorway, waiting for me to enter the lane.
I see her face, which looks exactly the same, but she is different somehow. I feel a pang of fear - who is it?
You wanna go get some cider? I know this great place near here. She says.
I remain silent and contemplate my options - should I go with her? should I run away?
She comes closer and she feels cold. The normal reaction to two human bodies in proximity should be that of warmth, but she is like a stone. It starts to snow and tiny little snowflakes fall onto my eyelids, causing me to blink as if the world was not real.
Let's go! She grabs my arm tightly and her fingers are like a cold steel vice.
The fear explodes in my chest. My heart is pounding and my mind is racing. I kick into survival mode - I have to get out of here somehow. She starts to go towards the other end of the lane, further into the darkness, while I try to pull back into the light.
Help! I scream in the direction of the light.
She tightens her grip so much that I yelp with pain. I think she is going to crush the muscles of my forearm. As we struggle, I see a glint of metal from inside her coat.
At that moment, a middle aged man enters the lane and comes up to us. In the darkness it is hard to make out his facial features, but I can see he is short and bald, wearing a heavy winter coat.
Is everything OK here? He asks.
She smiles at him sweetly while I flail helplessly, my arm still trapped in the vicelike grip.
Hey look lady, it's not OK to restrain someone like that. He says to her.
With one hand still on my arm, she opens her coat with the other arm. In a swift motion, she removes the glint of metal and it is a Global brand chef's knife (in real life I use one at my place).
With complete and utter silence, she slashes the knife neatly across the front of the man's coat and the coat falls away.
A huge gash appears across his abdomen and he falls to his knees. There is blood pouring out from the gash as he starts to shout and cry at the same time. Blood is coming out of his mouth too, and he's choking on his blood as he cries out. In a moment of trauma surgery reality, I wonder where the injury must be.
Then I realise that the grip on my arm is gone, and she is gone. Where has she gone?
I rush over to the man and cradle him in my arms.
It's going to be OK, it's going to be OK. I repeat to him, as the snow continues to fall onto us. Then I wake up.
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