Meatbags

Here’s a dream I’ve had quite frequently, a nightmare to be precise. Normally I try to wake up before the nightmares become too scary. Though some say that when you have reoccurring nightmares, the best way to get rid of them is to just “see through” the entire nightmare. In other words, not wake up before the dream ends and take control of your subconscious mind. Especially when the dreams are lucid.

So in dream begins with me leaving an airport on a sunny afternoon. And I find myself in this very modern city that I’ve never been to before in real life. For as far as I know, it’s not a Dutch city and I am assuming it’s not in Europe either. The people speak English in my dream, though.

Even though I am surrounded by all these tall modern and abstract building structures, the city has an old feeling to it. Mesmerized by my surroundings, I stroll in awe. I’ve reached what appears to be the main square of the city and I notice a tall monumental statue not too far away. It is a large statue of a man riding a battle horse with one leg up. Feeling drawn to the horesman statue, I walk towards it.

Accidentally, I bump into this tall slender young man with dark hair. He was holding up a sign, which he dropped because I had bumped into him.
“Watch it!” the young man yelps annoyed.
“I’m sorry for my clumsiness.” I apologize. I kneel down to pick up the sign off the ground. An awkward feeling creeps upon me as I stare at the sign, for my name is written on it. The young man is still annoyed and snatches the sign out of my hands.
“Why is my name on your sign?” I ask confused.
A charming smile spreads across his face. “Are you…?” he asks.
I frown and nod hesitantly.
“I’ve been waiting for you all day!” the young man says.
The young man explains that he is a tour guide and he is assigned to give me a small tour around the city. We laugh, shake hands and he tells me his name.

Excited about the tour, I tell the young tour guide that I’ve never been in a plane before, nor that I’ve ever been to this city. He tells me he will try his best to give me all the interesting and historical details there is to know. But when I ask him if he can tell me anything about the statue of the horseman, his response is quite vague. He tells me it’s not of importance to know now and that he will explain it later.

The tour passes me by like a haze. My personal tour guide and I stroll around the mesmerizing city. He shows me more tall abstract building structures, museums accompanied with short descriptive stories told by the young man. I don’t remember anything of these short stories at this point, they were too vague. But the young tour guide is very enthusiastic and charming still. I couldn’t help myself though, and had to ask him whether he has given a tour around the city before.

His face becomes bright pink, “Honestly, you are the second tourist I am giving a tour to.” he confesses.
“Oh… That explains a lot.” I blurt out.
The young tour guide hangs his head in embarrassment.
“I gave my first tour last week to a mother and daughter. After an hour of walking in circles they ditched me.” the young man  says.

Then the weather changes. A heavy wind rises up, clouds appear and the sky darkens. The young man suggests to find shelter at a restaurant not too far away. He leads me to this restaurant, located on the square near the horseman statue. A waiter brings us to a table by the window, with view upon the horseman statue. Another waiter brings us a menu. For some reason I cannot read the menu, in fact the letters are unrecognizable to me.
“What do you recommend?” I ask the tour guide.
The tour guide smirks, “Are you the adventurous type?” he asks.
“I’m not sure… It depends on the adventure?” I reply in a questioning manner.
“There’s this new trendy dish that I’ve been hearing about. Want to try it?” he asks.
“What kind of dish?” I ask.
“You will love it, trust me!” the tour guide says. That’s when he calls for the waiter and orders this mystery dish he mentioned.

Outside, the storm rages over the city. The horseman statue looks quite grim in the storm. In the meantime my tour guide leaves to go to the bathroom. Hours pass, but the waiter still doesn’t return with the food we ordered. The tour guide isn’t returning either. A bit suspicious, I get up from my table near the window and ask one of the waiters where the restrooms are. The waiter points towards a corner in the back of the restaurant and tells me to go down the stairs. When I ask the waiter why the food is taking so long, the waiter tells me he will look into it and rushes off.

I approach the stairs. Something inside me tells me to turn around and leave, but instead I take the steps downstairs. I am now standing in a gray dark hallway, surrounded by walls with chipped paint. The only source of light are these horrible fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The air downstairs is quite damp and a weird stench lingers through the hall. At the end of the hall there’s only one door. With a weird feeling in my stomach and my heart raging in my chest, I push the door open.

Now I stand in a much darker and colder area. It almost feels like I’ve walked into a giant refrigerator, or morgue. It is awfully quiet and the strange stench is much stronger here. The floor is wet and sticky and there’s a continues sound of water dripping down breaking the silence. slowly and carefully I move onward through this dark and cold area, trying not to become anxious. (I wanted to wake up at this point, but couldn’t).

Not too far ahead, I notice these rows and rows of large tables covered with crimson stains, with strange organic shaped bags laying on them. And there were more strange shaped bags hanging on hooks from the ceiling. The strange stench comes from these large bags. My stomach is turning as I come a little closer to the strange objects and I try to figure out what they are. There are knives, bonesaws and neelds laying on the crimson staines tables as well. That’s when I realize where I am; I am in a slaughterhouse and these strange organic shaped bags are in fact corpses. I just couldn’t seem to recognize what kind of animals these corpses are. Disgusted I take a few steps away from the tables.

Suddenly, a loud scream echoes through the slaughterhouse. Then a slender figure comes up from a dark corner. The person is covered in blood and is stumbling their way towards me. “Run! Get out of here!” the figure shouts at me as it keeps stumbling on. My heart skips a beat. Without hesitating, I turn around and run as fast as I can across the wet and slippery floor. Overcome by angst, my vision becomes blurry and as I run, I bump into something and fall backward to the floor. That’s when I realize that I actually bumped into one of the corpses hanging on the hooks from the ceiling. With great repulsion and fear I try to crawl back upon my feet, but I keep slipping. My clothes and hands are covered in blood and I’m trying very hard to get a grip on myself.

The bloody figure that had stumbled its way from the dark corner has now catched up on me.
“Go away!” I cry out, crawling backward over the wet and sticky floor.
“It’s ok, it’s ok. It’s me!” the bloody figure says with a trembling voice. The bloody figure reaches out their hands for me.
“What the frack do you want!?!” I cry out, trying to push the figure away from me.
Then the bloody figure helps me back on my feet. But I’m still suspicious, so I sucker punch the bloody figure.
“It’s me! Get a grip, woman!” the bloody figure shouts and slaps me across the face.
“Frack you!” I yell in a growl and kick the bloody figure between the legs. The bloody figure yelps and falls down. My cheek hurts and I gently rub my hand over it to try and get rid of the stingy feeling.

I take a deep breath and finally manage to calm myself down. And then I recognize the bloody figure; it is the young tourguide. I get up on my feet and help him back on his feet also.
“Are you ok? I’m sorry for kicking you, you scared the hell out of me. And this place scares the hell out of me too.” I say.
Shaking like a leave, the young tourist spoke with a trembling voice; “I wanted to ask the waiter why our food was taking so long. But he didn’t answer my questions, so I followed him and figured to ask the kitchen staff instead. I followed them down here and…” he stops for a moment and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Please kill me!” a voice cries out behind me.
“Who said that?” I ask as I turn around and see the corpse I accidently bumped into earlier. I scratch myself behind the ear, wondering how a corpse is able to talk. “Oh my God, those are people!” I say horrified.
“Please kill me!” it sounds again.
“They slaughter people like cattle and serve them in their restaurant!” the young tour guide yelps appalled.

Then I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. The young tour guide and I look at one another and then we look around to try and find a place to hide. But we can’t find anything.
“What do we do?!” I whisper.
“Climb up the ladder… The ladder next to me.” the undead corpse whispers.

Without thinking, I rush towards the ladder and start climbing. The young tour guide is right behind me. Underneath us I can hear the sound of cutting and screaming. We climb and climb and climb through a dark hole up the ladder until we reach what appears to be a manhole cover. With help from the tour guide, I manage to push the manhole cover open. We crawl out the dark hole, into the light. The storm outside has seized and we find ourselves back at the horseman statue.

And then I wake up…

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