1984

I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt that in a single day a totalitarian revolution submerged the world into oppression. I knew something was up when I got out of the shower and looked through the eye-hole in my door and there was a man sitting there staring at the door, waiting. I tip-toed through the apartment. A woman and child showed up and we exited the building off the balcony. The sky was polluted grey and many buildings were boarded up – red and black icons of the regime were spray painted instead. We walked to the Wilson stop – hundreds of people waiting. The platform had been torn down to it’s skeleton and the stop had been renamed something like ‘Freedom Track’. The trains came and the tops of them had been torn off so they were now open air platforms. We got on the trains as soliders screamed at us through microphones. We were being taken to training camps. I end up at the Art Institute of Chicago where all the art has been cleared out – and there’s a world map showing the New World Order – the continents are broken up into large swaths of land and renamed as provinces. The walls of the halls are engraved with slogans like ‘Ignorance is Knowledge’ or ‘Obedience is Freedom’. I tell Alan that Sunday on the Island of La Grand Jette is gone. I run to the armoury display and they have looted all of the medieval weapons and armor. We then all get our working orders. I had sent an email to the White House before I left hoping for some kind of response from the previous government – instead someone in the propaganda department had answered my email saying that I was given the task of creating public performance events to promote the ideals of our new country. I wake up. Chilling. I’m scared now to look through my door and see if there’s a man standing there… staring… waiting…


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