My Town

I was in some sort of town, European looking and with an eerie resemblance to Copenhagen, for the skies were dark and the lights dim; there was no sound, no music, nothing to be heard or be seen. I'm not completely sure what I was doing there, who I had gone to see or meet, but it wasn't my home—I knew it was a dream—I didn't feel safe inside it, but the mystery made me want to stay within. I walked down the streets, peering through the open doors, no one inside, just a dim light inside and whispers about the houses. On occasion, I would see a person or two, but they would flee from me until one man approached me, greeted me as if he knew me and said "You're finally here! We have been waiting for you. Please, come this way." I instinctively followed, not sure of what was to happen, but sure that if I wanted to I could end it all. "What's happened?" I found myself asking, "The very worst, Dr." Apparently, I possessed some kind of medical degree. "We do not know why it keeps happening," he spoke as we passed more open doors, went up and up steep sidewalks until we reached the top of the town. He looked nervous, constantly wiping his glasses and his far too large clothes moved to and fro as he struggled to hurry up to the top. "Tell me," I said and waited for him to answer. He then, with words I cannot remember, went on to tell me how people had been getting hurt or they were disappearing, how there was a deathly silence about the town because of this. I told him I would try and help, do my work, and have it all solved in only a matter of days, but I could not be more wrong.

Suddenly, I found myself re-entering the town as I went down the hill; I stopped by a small shop to buy something sweet and as I did a cold breeze moved my dress and I immediately looked to the building next to me. It was speaking to me, the air was filled with a moist, foul odor and as I approached it I noticed it changed so, and there, before my very eyes, I saw them: one by one hanging from their windows. They were children, still in their nightgowns, sock-less, harmless, with a rope tied around their necks and their bodies moved horribly with the wind. Was I the only one that could see them? No one else seemed to notice them and for a moment I witnessed a flash of the past, of life, music, sound, and color that had once filled this small town. Why were those children dead?

I didn't want to wake up, clearly, because I wanted to help and stop this from happening again. Their corpses were haunting the town, not letting it rest ever until they were avenged. I could see no other path for their lives still hung from those windowsills; damned to the endless friction of a rope to the neck. They called out to me as I passed by more and more windows, their little eyes putrid and their small hands unable to reach out to me because of their pain. How can someone suffer so much even after they are dead? Who could curse them in such a way and why? And as I asked myself this, terrified and cold, I saw people of all ages, shapes, and sizes hanging from the windows of the rest of the town. How I longed to help them, but sadly I could not, for a wind wrapped itself around me, taking me to the skies and I was gone from the dream and their voices cried out as I reached out to hold at least one child in my arms. My dream was a sad one and one that makes me wonder still: is there really a town like this?