My brother and I are climbing down the outside of a skyscraper, closing and locking windows. An orchestra inside one of the rooms doesn't like the noise we're making so it blows a horn at us. We go inside and I give squirt guns to the kids to go take revenge.

There is an eye mounted on a board. In front of it is a squirter or injector and some sensors. The eye is connected to a human. The board is surrounded by witnesses. I am asked by the Lady to judge the eye. I do so immediately, flick the switch, and it is finished. She is shocked by the abruptness of my action. She says that for something so important she would deliberate for quite some time. I am relieved of my duties.

While they're still talking and choosing my replacement I rush up the levels of the factory, turning on the fog faucets as I go. The whole lolwer part of the factory is shrouded in fog. Now I tell my loyal followers, the children, to start work.

One of them starts working at the main machine next to me. The machine bobs up and down in a depression in the factory floor, but it gets bogged down in this black, jelly-like substance that it produces. It is the job of the black child to work the machine free with a kind of squeegee. But it does not know how. So I start working at the machine to show it, pulling jelly out here and there.

Finally the children from the lower levels have started arriving. They are scared and confused by the fog. I give the signal to attack. My children start fighting. I leap down the stairs at a group of startled kids. A voice tells me to use both hands, so I open my arms as I crash land on top of the group, knocking them back down the stairs.

NOTE: Please follow the hardlinks for possible symbol interpretations.

I am sitting with a friend of mine. We'd met a few months earlier. She'd recently started dating another of my friends, so we had started to see each other much more often.

She brushes up against me, and I reflexively shrink away. I begin debating in my mind whether I should tell her about how uncomfortable I am about touching other people. On one hand, it's my right to refuse being touched when I don't want to be. On the other hand, this touch was probably very innocuous to her, and it might seem a bizarre imposition to ask to avoid even accidental touching. Despite the discomfort that touching produces, I also know that I should allow myself to become used to this sort of contact.

While I'm hesitating, she touches her forehead to mine, looking into my eyes. The eye contact is unbearable; I close my eyes. An aura of energy spreads from the point of contact throughout my head and down my spine.

The aura has created a deep connection from the center of my being to the center of hers. I am terrified; the debate is over. I have to put a stop to this. But it's too late. My fear is replaced with helpless resignation. I know that she can see every last bit of my ugliness, evil, and stupidity.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.