I woke early this morning, moments after a radio station filled the bedroom with music from decades past. After spending several minutes watching light patterns dance across the wall, and listening to birds singing in the trees outside, I fell back asleep.
The next hour conjured the strangest dream I have experienced in quite some time.
I was in the house I grew up in, and a car pulled onto the drive. Lots of people climbed from the car, singing some sort of happy-clappy religious song – led by the late husband of an old work colleague. They opened the front door, and flooded into the house – singing as they began filing into the various rooms.
I confronted the leader, and asked him to please leave. He ignored me, and began singing louder.
Giving up on reasoning, I grabbed the sides of his body, and lifted him into the air. As I carried him through the house, his body seemed strangely rigid and light – as if he were a mannequin. I threw him back through the front-door as one might a sack of mail – and began turning, picking up, and throwing each of the nearest of his followers – who were still singing.
And then I woke up.
I’ve been thinking about the dream all morning. While picking the people up, I questioned to their face why they had no mind of their own – why the were blindly following others.
They just kept singing.
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