It was strange. And it should have been beautiful. The atmosphere was beautiful. A flower and sun filled meadow with ankle-high grass and a clear blue sky was presented before me. It was a comfortable temperature, and the colors were almost maddeningly brilliant. But I knew something was wrong because I couldn't move, and I didn't feel like one of those impassive observers that I tend to be in dreams.
I noticed these odd, rainbow, ribbon decorated metal carousels in the grass, the kind of carousels that you wind up and jump on as they pull you up, and then ride spinning and laughing in the opposite direction as you wind down. There seemed to be two of them, and they shone in the sun, but without any painful glare.
People approached, and I thought at first that they were merely going to ride the carousels, which was odd because they didn't have seats. There were odd formations at the top of one, and what looked like little, multicolored bags on the other. There were men, women, and lots of children all well dressed in what looked like their best party colors and they were all laughing and talking excitedly about things I couldn't quite make out. The parents took their children to the machines, and in the machine with the odd formations at the top, they sat the children inside of some strange loops, and climbed on themselves, in the other machines, they put the colorful bags over theirs and their childrens' heads, tied bits of colorful tubing around their necks, and stood there for a minute. The children complied, curious and trusting as their parents did all this.
At some point I could better scrutinize the machines and their various trappings. I realized the bags were some form of rubber or plastic, and that the tubing was cutting off their oxygen when the bags were tied in place. On the other machine, the top of the carousel was composed of blades.
I remember the parents holding up the children as they ran in a circle, their oxygen slowly depleting, and eventually lifting off the ground as their bodies hung slack. The carousel wound up around the posts higher, dangling the bodies. I watched as the parents lost grip of the struggling children, their muffled cries coming through the bags, and watching those bodies begin to hang slack as well.
The other carousel quickly became more obvious. The children watched trustingly as their parents pushed the ring around in a quick, tight circle, and then jumped on. I watched as the carousel spun up higher and higher until they reached the blades. The bits of skull, brain, and skin did not slice off easily. The blades seemed to be slightly dull, because the machine quickly got caught up and some bodies hung half way, caught on the blades. The shorter ones (the children) tended to have blunt force trauma and slicing through the tops of their heads and skulls, while the parents tended to be sliced through their necks and their chests. Blood dripped down (after the first sprays from the initial contact had stopped,) and puddled grossly on the ground around the carousel.
The other one slowly spun back towards the ground, the bodies hitting with soft thuds, getting tangled up in one another and dragged in the dirt.
I wanted to scream or cry, or something, but I couldn't move or do anything.
I watched this same thing happen a second, third and forth time, same scenario, different people, different children, each bloody mess disappearing before each new group appeared.
On the fifth time, a small child with a pretty lavender dress struggled, and cried as her Mom slipped the bag over her head, "Mommy, what are you doing?! Stop!" Then she said the magic words,"Help! Somebody help, please!"
Suddenly I could move, and I did. I went to the child and pulled her from the machine and her mothers grasp, I ran to the children and the other machine and asked, "Do you want help?" and they nodded and said, "Please!" I helped them out of their seats, oddly untouched by their parents, and I ran with them away from the scene.
As we ran, things got grayer, darker, and more menacing. The trees became barren and the meadow became hills. I knew something was following but I didn't know what. I tried to run, the little girl from the strangling machine sitting in the crook of one arm and one hip. But in the end, somehow, I knew we couldn't get away.
THEN I woke up. I woke up clawing at the bed, my whole body twitching, and clutching my blanket where the child was supposed to be. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, but I choked on a sob.
