It began with a group gathering outside the Cottage.
I heard mutterings and whispers, there was applause and oohs and ahhs. The crunch of footsteps on the rocks and the click of cameras filled in the brief silence. There were well dressed and well mannered children and adults organized around a center couple and a person dressed in ceremonial garb. Suddenly,the dream turned nightmare.
A wailing began, a keening. I was surprised I didn\’t hear or see running from the crowd. They somehow stood in place despite the cacophony. I thought of the barrage used to taunt hostage takers into surrender. The noise took on a military aire. All I could think of was this was a twisted version of the Marine Corps Hymn being played by screaming cats as they were swallowed by wolves being chased by hyenas tracked by chain saw rattling zombies intent on mayhem. I heard something like Amazing Grace and I begged for some; for some relief from this ear splitting torture, this screeching plague. I half expected to hear glasses break, eye glasses, windshields, the faces of clocks, glass eyes and seaglass too.
What could I have possibly eaten to spur this type of dream; what was leaking from my sub conscious that could prompt such terrible imaginings? Where in my experience had I been exposed to this facet of Hitchockian horror? In which of Dante\’s circles had this bruising bedlam been born? Why does this sound like an animal shelter on a carnival ride hit by lightning and an 18 wheeler pulling on its horn at the same time? And don\’t you have to be asleep to have a dream sequence?
Worst – Bag – Pipe – Player – at a wedding – Ever.