Dream

Posted on July 12, 2002 in Dreams

The prison stood in the middle of the city, a gigantic skyscraper that covered a whole block with no windows. The prisoners spent their days sitting in pews. I went in with a group of Quakers who fanned out to give comfort to the many. My prisoner was a small, balding old man with a beard who sat with two of his friends, wrapped in a blanket. We passed through a line that reminded me of the checkout line at the library. A skeletal middle-aged despot perched behind a counter, checking the bags of everyone who left but none too closely. As we waited in line, I told my Quaker friends about the shivs that many of the prisoners had. Some of them had been quite friendly with the ministers and little did they know that tucked beneath the belt or taped to the arm under the sleeve the nicest of the men kept a deadly shard. The guards moved us out onto the street in groups. I noticed one fellow who was just too clean cut to be one of us. He turned out to be a prisoner making his escape. When he got outside, though, he ran to a grassy spot and began to scream. Several people crowded around him and took him back inside the cell house.