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Saturday, June 13, 2015

Cult Fiction

Dream 6/13/2015

My mom and I take a drive into town. We lose track of time. We find ourselves in Chicago five hours away from where we started.
We search for the Willis Tower.
We end up in a room with many familiar faces: People we’ve known much of our lives--from church, from school etc. They are holding a christian conference.
 One issue with this location is it’s problem with tarantulas. Every now and then you’ll find one crawling on the floor below you, someone will scream across the room and you figure they found a big, hairy friend. A small Asian boy sees one and tries to pick it up. He gets bitten and let’s out a scream. 
The leader of the conference asks us to split off into groups for discussion. I end up in a group that I don’t care for.
Within a matter of seconds, the conference turns from a good-hearted, christian conference into a macabre, Occultish meeting of horrors. The leader (who looks suspiciously like Meryl Streep) is now in the crowd and her daughter (looks like Rachel McAdams) has taken the reigns up front. 
In a chant-like way, the mother says, “I don’t know where the children are but I’m sure you do,” pointing at her daughter. Streep let’s out a series of “whoos.” Some are longer (Whoo-hoo) and some are short (Whoo). Cheering and applauding, she screams out, “I just got married to a man yesterday,” and then she turns to where nobody can see her face, when she turns back, her face is old, as if it has aged thirty years. Dream ends.
I wake up.

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