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Friday, May. 02, 2003 - 9:25 a.m.
Nightmare

I haven't had a nightmare in years. I can't even remember the last time I had a nightmare or what it was about.

My sister (the one I never used to get along with) and I were working in a circus. We weren't performing, we were just staff; it was very much like a contruction site, except that we had no rights, and therefore no safety equipment. We were driving forklifts, rather, I was a passenger in one that was behing the one she was driving.

Suddenly an announcement goes out. We have to deliver cargo to some area IMMEDIATELY. We had to take the shortest passage that we could. Someone suggested that we take a shortcut by the tents. I thought it might be a little dangerous, but I didn't say anything. It was dangerous because to get across the area we drive to drive forklifts across a plank of wood bridging a chasm about 25 feet long and 25 feet deep. As well, we had to turn a sharp corner to get onto the bridge and since we were being rushed, we were moving at full speed.

I saw my sister's forklift go end over end into the chasm.

I have never lost a close relative. The only ones that have died are ones I never knew. I have always imagined that I wouldn't deal very well, especially if I saw them die.

I leapt out of my forklift screaming. Jumping and running down the sharp incline of the ditch, I held out a small hope that she was somehow protected from the rollover, being within the caging. Not even close. It was the most terrible thing I have ever seen. I won't/can't describe the scene, but I can talk about what must have happened. Somehow she was thrown out of the forklift ahead of it, then the forklift rolled over on top of her, creating an uncontrolled steamroller effect.

And I Lost. My. Mind. Sometimes you can feel your sanity give way a little bit at a time during those really stressful moments, like clothing fibres. But this was a magificent mental tearing, ripping and rending of the heart and mind. It was just fucking gone, scattered. I wailed and thrashed, beat my head my my hands. I writhed around on the ground like a diseased wretch. I just couldn't take what had happened. I know it wouldn't have been so bad if someone had come down to help me keep my mind together just a little bit, but there was work to do. Those deliveries HAD to be made on time. It must have been some kind of tyranny we were under, because it was purely business as usual for everyone else.

After quite some time, maybe weeks after she was buried, I tried to petition for some safety measures. But the foreman, a short, fat, cigar-chomping, greasy-haired stereotype, blamed everything on her, and implied that she had cost the company time and money. As I was still not even close to together, I couldn't even argue the point, or kill/seriously injure him. I couldn't do anything. I tried to get her honoured somehow, but that wasn't happening either.

The dream ended with me feeling drained and mentally injured. I wasn't thinking of suicide, but I must have been on that track. If the dream were allowed to continue...

0 scrawls at the end of this hall

The look: very disturbed and scared
The feel:
The taste:
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