i have a reccurring dream where i'm living in a 3rd world country. perhaps in the poorest circumstances i've ever seen. as time continues on i realize that it's not actually a 3rd world country, but some sort of huge flying machine. if i had to describe it i would describe it as a huge submarine that flies. i never see it from the outside, but the inside is full of twists and turns and narrow hallways comparable to those of an old person's house. They're full of books, and bottled and canned foods, and ancient looking miscellanea that appear to be from another life.
i'm not alone in the machine.
there are a few other people on the machine. one is an old woman who is kind to me, and consistently feeds the rest of the people on the machine. at one point in the dream she buys me some kind of delicious pastry. in the process of buying it there are some dirty poor beggar kids who come to ask for money or pastry, hungry and unable to give them money i generally ignore them.
another man is there. he strikes me as being crazy. he's hyperactive and always talks what sounds to be nonsense. he's consistently talking about how long he's been there, but he thinks that soon "they'll" let him come home. on this particular day he's running all over the place claiming that he finally got word that he can go home. he's gathering up canned foods and books from off of the shelves and taking them to what appears to be the area of a bomber airplane with the huge doors which allow the bombs to drop (the bomb bay?). the room is full of books with fluttering pages and cans and bottles of food. it appears to me that's he's going to jump from the machine and i start asking him questions about things to try to get him away from the open bomb bay doors. its about this time that it occurs to me that he can't read anyway, so i dont really understand what he's thinking. he continues babbling about how we're done and we can go home now. the way he talks about it makes it seem like we've been on a mission for years and are finally permitted to go home.
out of nowhere i begin to believe him and that i get to go home too, that my time on the machine is over, that i've somehow done my duty. i start to go back through the machine and get a few things that will remind me of my time there later, mainly books. i put the books on a table in the kitchen where another one of the machines passangers is standing.
the crazy passenger runs in and tells me that we need to hurry up because they'll be here to get us soon. the other passenger looks at the crazy one and asks "what are you doing man? why are you getting him revved up?" the crazy one says "he's like me and we're through. we can go." when he says that i hear a car honk its horn outside the kitchen's window. i go over slowly to the window thinking that it must be the person come to get me. i peek through the blinds but there's nobody there. its just an empty driveway. its at this point that i hear the one man say to the crazy one "you know he doesn't know whats going on, why do you get him going? look at him. waiting for someone to come." the crazy man responds "i think he's like me, he can't read either."
the other man retorts "he's not like you at all. he can read, he's just alone."