The ones where monsters chase me are the good dreams.

[featherynscale]

In the dream, my household has been captured by some hardass Old-Testament-thumping cult. We're taken to a farm out in the middle of nowhere, USA, and split up for deprogramming (you can read that as brainwashing. I did.). The cult leader was a greasy looking red-faced man with piggy eyes and a bad comb-over. At first, I laughed at him, because he didn't look like anything very impressive. Later, it wasn't funny any more. I was sent to three- or four-hour sessions, where the importance of living the Gospel was talked at me. I tried to object that nothing these people were about had anything to do with the gospel, and was beaten and made to cover my head and kneel for hours on end. When I was sleeping, two or three men came in every hour or so to wake me up and tell me what they were going to do to me as soon as I was "clean". One man masturbated as he talked, and came on my foot, which under normal circumstances would be at least inoffensive, but here I washed and washed and never felt clean. When I started to take the skin off, I stopped, but only because I knew I wasn't going to be able to get any bandages.
I was able to see my family at meals. They looked like shit. I was pretty sure I looked like shit, too. After about a week, I got a new room. The first room was bare like a holding cell. This one was also bare, but there were a number of boxes in the middle of it. I opened the boxes and found all of the things that were in my shitty ghetto studio apartment in Jax, from when I lived with the ex (with whom I was trying to make myself straight, monogamous, marriage-oriented, nurturing and submissive, Just Like Women Are Supposed To Be -- he, in turn, was lazy, dishonest and abusive, Like Men Are Apparently Supposed To Be. I mention this only because it's important in context). I didn't know what to do with this stuff. So I was standing there with a box open and stuff trailing out of it, and in walks the cult leader guy with a couple of other men. He gestures at the boxes and says, "See, you know how to be. You just come back round and be right. You do what you're supposed to and nobody will get hurt. We'd rather make converts than corpses." He flung a flowered sundress at me. I spit on him.
The goons grabbed me and carried me out to a barn. In the barn, there was a wood chipper. Next to the chipper was a stack of dismembered bodies. The goons hit me again and the leader said that if I was going to be like that, it would be my job to do the messy work. I was supposed to feed the corpses into the chipper and dispose of the resulting 'mulch'. For the next several days I did this. A man with a gun stood watch to make sure that I was doing it right. I was filthy every day. As my clothes were ruined, they were taken away. On the last day, I put on the sundress. At this point, I was taking meals by myself, so I hadn't seen my family in several days.
During my time in the barn, I had seen a car coming and going. I latched on to the hope of that car. The armed man was a problem that I didn't know how to solve. It seems as if there was a bigger obstacle as well; I can't remember what it was, but I knew that getting past it might kill me, so I waited.
On that last day, I found a little girl in the pile. She would have been about seven or eight. This was really more than I could take. I started screaming. I was so angry that I was beyond angry well into the realm of crazy. I was angry at the cult, I was angry at myself, and I was angry at the little girl. Why couldn't she just toe the line and wait? The farm was full of people looking for the right moment to revolt. Why couldn't she wait for us to save her? This was my fault, mine and everyone else on the farm. I thought I had been crazy before. Clearly, I had just not yet recognized what crazy actually was. The long stick in my hand, given to me to ram corpses into the chipper, seemed like something else: an axe handle, an axe, a quarterstaff.
The next thing I knew, I was in the car I had seen. I knew that I needed to find my family, but I didn't know where they were, and the farm was full of crazy people with guns and axes. I decided to leave, thinking that as soon as I could get off the farm, I could find a town and go to the police. Then, I thought, the cops or the FBI or somebody with a lot of weapons would come in and let everybody go.
As I am driving down the highway towards town, the road is full of policemen. I am perhaps the only car on the road that isn't a cruiser. I wonder if they are looking for me. I wonder if maybe I might need to go a little further down the road to alert the police, if maybe this isn't the right town to find people who are sympathetic to tortured heathens. There is a cellphone in the car. I think that I am saved. The cop directly behind me switches on his lights. I'm on the cellphone trying to call somebody, anybody. I'm covered in blood and grime in a stolen car.
At this point, I wake up, and am immensely relieved to notice that triadruid is next to me. I mean shit, really. I have dreams about monsters chasing me, or Dracula, or other shit that normal people have normal nightmares about. These don't bother me. I usually end up fucking the monsters. That's fine. This shit, though, is unreasonable. I think it's time to quit reading TheocracyWatch for a while.