The white world

I was living in an authoritarian world where things were tightly controlled and sanctioned, and had an eerie feel of everything being fine... and most people seemed to think it was just that.

There were lots of little kids, and a fair few of us, I saw myself as a teenage boy who had a couple of friends I'd hang out with. We dressed in uniforms that were mostly white, and we looked very clean, our hair was very tidy.

It seemed that what we did most, was study and carry text books and write a lot.

A group of about twenty of us students sat on the roof of a low building, at wooden picnic chairs and sorted through our piles of books on the tables, everyone seemed to be smiling and generally happy.

The little ones walked around in groups, and they all played with a soft white rubber which was like marshmallow, for some it was a very high bouncing ball, and one girl had a balloon of an animal, it was solid, not filled with gas, and sort of looked Japanese... more of a soft shape than an animal.

The rubber stuff, whatever it was, was part of the problem.

I didn't like the kids being herded around like they were, they seemed ok, but there was something going on, and the rubber stuff... my friend bounced a small ball, and it ricoched past me, I scowled at him, I hated it, and he knew. Both He and the Girl who was with me had read something I'd written in my textbook, I'd seen it somewhere... I cannot remember what it said, but it was deadly secret, something that if they found out, would land us in very hot water. I guarded that book with my life... but I didn't know what the text meant, neither did my friends.

What I seem to remember was, was there was this man, who was dirty and living alone, had found something out and was living like a vagrant. He'd written this on a wall somewhere, I think it was some sort of warning.

I think I felt that there was some truth in what was said, I felt very disturbed.

For a moment I turned my eyes away from the table, and when I looked back, my book was missing... My heart raced... and I looked up to see a student on another table flipping through my pages.

I ran to him and grabbed him, we fought and... I killed him, just like that... which was obviously a bad move, but what could I do?

There were these two serious men in light grey uniforms, I was sitting in a white room, on a low bench beside the wall, with my head down... held down... near my knees, and as I was questioned, I felt a sharp point drilling into the top of my head.

"And what did you do? you killed him? what was in the book?"

I sobbed and said "He was a good boy"

"He was a good boy?" the man said angrily.

And then a plastic thread was pushed into the hole and it attached itself to part of my brain.

On the other end of the plastic line was a thin silver rod, I couldn't see it, but I knew, somehow, that's what it was.

I have a vague memory of being taken somewhere in a vehicle.

And I woke.

Dream

Last nights dream was pretty wild and confused. It's summer here, and very steamy, really difficult to sleep and last night I retired at 4am... well yes, this morning.

I was out with my parents, and Mum, though quite old, wanted to play on those spinning things that kids play on in the park, they're made of metal and are flat on the top, you know the ones.

And she's got something like an iphone, and really mad about it, which is strange for her because she didn't go in for any of that.

She's spinning around on this equipment, stops and takes a photo and says that she has to tweet about it.

Mum isn't well, it's at the time that her health is failing and once in a while she throws up, not much, just a bit, and yet she's still happy as Larry and bouncing around like a child.

My Dad is there but seems to stay out of the picture.

Later we're at home and my Sister turns up, She's sick with cancer, Sadly she is in real life, and I remember how we were trying to make her comfortable.

I'd made a big bed of soft blankets, on the floor, which is strange.

Later I was outside in the back yard, and I heard my Sister call for Mum, Her voice seemed to come from the distance somewhere, the lane behind our property. I called Mum out to listen and it got fainter and fainter each time she called.

When I woke, I heard my cat crying in the kitchen, and her voice could have become my Sisters, in the dream.

Wolfie!