I am standing on dirt floor facing bunk beds set up for
concentration camps or slave trade. A
large woman exhausted and ill is in the middle bunk by the entrance of this
room. It is night time and the night is
barely lit by candle light. Everything
feels grimy, dirty, sweaty, unpleasant, and unhappy. The people looked that way too. Within the vignette of the entrance I saw a
large strong female arm extended exhausted toss out s lump, brown and red. It lands on the entrance way, looking about 6
inches long curled up, not crying or moving, still hot from birth, it is bloody
from the fetal sack and the bleeding of its own blood from a broken neck, head
tilting to the right. Minutes was all
this body had left, I scream in horror, it’s too late for the baby, how about
the mother? I run for a doctor.
When I exited the bunk bed barn like structure, I entered
another scene, this scene is different than the previous one that was more
primitive, I am in a different time, it was the time of horses as the mode of
transportation.
I finally found a doctor, facing the unwilling doctor who
refused to get involved, I found myself in another scene and another time. It is the present time of now, and in the
hallway by the kitchen of the house I lived in.
I screamed at the doctor, “If you won’t help, I’ll have to call the
cops!” Totally ready to pull out my cell
phone, I ran for my room, a portal to another time, a gateway to another scene
of horses and cities. At the hallway
outside of my room, a man grabs me from behind takes me down as I wrestled with
him not loosing in strength or endurance, he pulls out a needle and injects me
with a drug, to silence me and confuse me.
I fought to get up, I did and I fought to not be overpowered by the
drug. I could not hear myself speak and
my sense of vision was warped. I cannot
tell if I have a voice. I continue to
scream and I spoke and stumbled through the gateway.
The scene changed, what was the room of the slave beds
was now a corner building. What was a
time of horses and candle wick light is now time of carriages and lamp lit
streets. I am clear and awake and still
speaking. I hear my voice through my
thoughts. The drug muffled my ear’s
hearing abilities. This attempt was to
fool me into thinking I am mute, insane, and that I don’t have a voice. Its goal was to silence me from speaking and
exposing what is illegal, injustice, suffering, afflictions, so no one is saved
and the control, power, and fear continues, harm gets away with harm.
