I sit on a cold hard set of bleachers in a classroom with other students. We are watching a movie about
grasshoppers. We are all
naked, sitting far apart. Our clothes are strewn about the floor. The cold light of a streetlamp flickers on outside the room.
Suddenly the light is obscured. There is a sound upon the window pane. Our teacher stops the movie. The sound grows louder, a deafening hum that leads to smacking against the glass. The glass breaks and grasshoppers seem to be flying into the room.
"Locusts! Run!", the teacher shouts.
We grab our clothes and flee. No time for shoes, I throw on my jeans and zip-up sweatshirt, zipping as I run. All the others have disappeared and I am alone in an empty hall searching for a way out. My bare feet silently padding along the cold hard floor.
I finally see some stairs and as I run down, I see people lying on the steps, pressed together one on top of the other. They have sores all over them and chewed up holy clothes.
"Why aren't you running?", I cry, "Move!"
But, they only stay and point to the door. "The next wave is coming, prepare yourself!"
The door is open and I see a black humming cloud spread over the sky. I see it cover the moon and feel fear.
I turn and notice on another set of stairs higher up is a boy lying alone. He too is covered in wounds, but over more of his body than the rest. He is silent, but his eyes are watching the group. They are filled with longing.
The locust cloud is deafening now. The people in the group grab my legs and tell me to stay with them where it will be safe. I only see the boy. I yank myself free and run to him. I spread my body over his, tuck his face against my chest and make sure no parts of him are exposed. I unzip my sweatshirt and tuck the open edges around him. We slide against the edge of the stairwell and I hold on as the ravenous force sets down upon us.
I hear the screams of the others before I feel the attack on me. Piercing stabs of pain fill me as my feet are set upon. I feel hundreds of sparks of pain yet I don't cry out. My clothes are no protection and soon they too are filled with holes and blood. Still I hold my stance. The boy starts sobbing against me.
"Where are they getting you? Tell me and I will move to stop it!" I say.
"No that isn't it", he cries,"They are not touching me. But you, you cared enough. When the others tossed me aside, you didn't ask why. You just came to me because you cared. You care"
The locusts move on as quickly as they come. I roll off the boy and lie on my back. The pain is gone, yet I am still bleeding. I look at the boy and he is like new. No wounds or torn clothes. I look on in wonder. My eyes turn to the group of people, they are all dead. I wonder that I am still alive, I look out the door and see the moon. It is watching me. Waiting. It calls to me. My blood is flowing down the stairs and I know that I am dying. There is no pain, only relief.
The boy comes to me with tears in his eyes. He strokes my hair. "I must be going now." He kisses my brow, then walks up the stairs until he is out of sight.
I am left alone bleeding for the moon.
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I had this dream (or some variant) almost every night for a few weeks. I'm a firm believer in dreams as being the mind's way of sorting out the junk of life. Once I wrote it down and looked at it carefully, I was able to figure out what it meant to me. It doesn't scare me anymore. I know why I've been dreaming it.