In cahoots

I’ve had trouble remembering my dreams of late; it’s extremely disappointing.  Last night, I remembered just enough to justify a post.

I stumbled into an unknown restaurant or bar as I walked down the street past midnight.  I might have been looking for my car or food.  Either which is plausable.  The interior of the eatery was sparse, and there were four men who idly stood about engaged in a muted conversation.  When I came in, their eyes scanned my body, and one of them grinned.

The one smiling eyed the man closest to me, and all four advanced in my direction.  I ran out, and into the adjoined parking lot for help.  There was a red-headed woman sitting in her car up ahead, so I stumbled to her passenger side.  I screamed, “They’re going to rape me!” repeatedly, until she unlocked the door.  I jumped in and she drove off.  I was explaining what took place inside, but I abruptly stiffened as I took my first real look at her.

She looked extremely familiar, and that’s how I knew she wasn’t meant to help me (after waking, I realized she was murdered in a dream of mine a few months ago.)  My eyes darted from her red hair to the road.  The street was unrecognizable as we drove underneath a bridge.  Instinctively, I jumped out of the car, and was hurled across the asphalt.  I saw a man casually walking up ahead.

I ran in his direction, but he turned to face me once I got halfway.  It was the same man from the restaurant.  Apparently, the red-head and the men had an understanding.  I ran in another direction, and was tackled from behind.

(Time lapse)

The smell was nauseating; it reminded me of how roadkill smelled as it splattered underneath my top-down Miata.  The men up ahead were from the restaurant, and they led another guy into a corridor.  He stood still as they walked away.  A floating voice told me I didn’t have to watch.  A quick, yet light sawing hum met my ears.  I looked up once it stopped.  Chunks of reddish-pink flesh on the floor, ceiling, and walls replaced the man who was in tact a minute ago.

They led me through the corridor.  Although I was in league with these men, I half-anticipated the same end as the mash on the walls.  The man standing at the end of the corridor asked me something as I approached, and I smiled.

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