Running With A Different Pack

Western New York
79 posts, Jun 2001

posted 06-22-2001 02:10 PM            

---

Hello all, I am new to this forum, though I have been lurking and reading for a few weeks now. When I saw the Freeform part of the forum, I knew that there was no better way for me to introduce myself than to post a story that I wrote this afternoon about a very vivid, scary dream I had last night. So, here goes. Nice to meet you all!
************************************
It is dark, the streetlights off for the evening, the small town quiet for the first time all day. I walk the streets near my grandmother’s house, enjoying the cool night air, listening to the chirr of crickets and cicadas in the trees. There is a slight breeze, barely enough to rustle the treetops. The moon is full, I gaze at its beautiful face and bask in its glow. Wow, it’s bright enough to read by tonight, I think, pulling the rumpled sheet of paper from my pocket, just to test. Sure enough, I can make out the main headline and some of the body of the article. “Fringe Groups Feel That So-Called ‘Chemtrails’ Affect Weather” it proclaims, boldly. It is a good article, as it presents all sides of the story, despite its initial slanted appearance. It was printed one day in our local paper, and I have read it over and over again, puzzling over it, trying to examine the theories and both sides of the story scientifically before deciding one way or another. I fold it back up and reach to put it back in my pocket, sighing, no closer to the truth at that moment than ever before. At that second, my hand halfway there, I glance up at the moon again, and my heart freezes in my chest.
The face of the beautiful orb is now crossed with dark lines, forming a grid-like pattern. The paper I am holding flutters from my grip as I stare in utter shock. Along the edges of the moon, where it is not backlit so heavily, I can make out the lines of this grid. My jaw gapes open...they appear to be thin clouds...then I know. Realization grips my chest so tightly that I feel I may faint. Chemtrails. They ARE real... I turn slowly to the right, still looking at the sky. My breath catches in my throat. Another grid...huge, and almost directly overhead, covering the sky in that direction for as far as I can see, illuminated gently by the glow of the moon. My fists clench in fear, and I turn again, hesitantly, afraid of what I may see. A small moan escapes my throat...there is a third grid, spanning the sky from the far horizon to overhead where it joins with the others. I spin slowly, observing. They converge overhead, and together blanket the entire sky from horizon to horizon...quiet, not drifting in the gentle breeze, the lines still thin as though they had been laid minutes before... A wave of panic grips me. What is going on, here? My God...grids, all over...the most blatantly obvious form of spraying. No normal flight plan is ever going to create a grid...something must be...something BIG...Oh my God. Oh my God, we’ve got to get out, Grandma has asthma...this could kill her. Fear puts wings on my feet, and I race back to my grandmother’s house.
“Grandma, we’ve got to go. We’ve got to go now.” I am pushing her out the door, grabbing my younger sister in the process. I throw some clothes in a bag for her, grab my sister’s toy suitcase, and rush out to the car.
Grandma finally recovers enough of a voice to ask me “What on Earth is going on?!” I don’t answer her. I simply point up. She looks. And looks again. “Oh my God,” she says, quietly. That is all she says. She knows nothing about the trails, what they really are, but they are shocking enough visually that she gets in the car without argument, and buckles my sister in. She is silent as I jam the keys into the ignition and peel out of the driveway. My sister stares at my reflection in the rearview mirror, tears glistening in her eyes, afraid of my reaction, not understanding my fear. I try to smile at her and reassure her, but I can’t make my muscles contort like that at the moment. I myself am too afraid. We pull onto the interstate, and I throw all of my concentration into driving, my headlights glistening on the dark, sinuous pavement. In silence and fear, we flee.

We pull into the driveway at my home just after the sun has risen. I am more calm now, as is Grandma. My sister has long since fallen asleep, even her hyperactivity no match for the long drive. I grab the bags from the trunk as Grandma crawls from the car, stretching, her legs somewhat unsteady. My sister wakes up and yawns, unbuckles her seatbelt, and gets out. I hand her suitcase to her, and give my grandmother her bag, then pull the keys from the ignition and give Grandma the house key so she can unlock the door.
They head to the house, and I walk towards the barn a few feet, glad to be home, glad to be away from the grids in the sky. I glance up, into the sunshine, and feel its warmth caress my face. I look above the treetops, and my heart plummets while fear freezes my legs. No...oh no. Grids. Spanning the sky here as well. Grids, delineating perfect squares of open blue... I just stare. Suddenly, from the hill across the tree-line a small object shoots towards me. It is a rocket, perhaps fifteen feet up in the air, about a foot long, trailing billows of white smoke. I watch as it zooms over, ten feet or so above my head, then disappears into the woods behind me faster than I can process. My grandmother and sister have watched its path from the steps of the house, paused in the process of unlocking the door. I blink in disbelief. Suddenly, my chest constricts. My nose and eyes begin to burn. Gas!
“Get in the house!” I scream, panicked. “Get in, get in, it’s GAS!!” Grandma fumbles with the lock, then throws the door open as I hold my breath and run for the house. I grab my sister around the waist and toss her into the house, shoving her at my grandmother. “Take her. Take her and hide! GO!” I slam the door behind me and turn to lock it just as a white sedan screeches into the driveway. Two other cars pull in behind it, both gray, all three unmarked. I slam the lock on the storm door closed, and shove the inside door closed, turning the bolt as a man comes up the sidewalk, a man wearing a blue dress shirt, khaki pants, and a navy blue tie. Several more men follow behind him. The man glances up at me where I stand behind the door, watching him through the pane of glass in the center of it. His dark blue eyes meet mine, bore into them. Fear beyond anything I have ever known before rips through my body. He stands on the steps, no less than two feet away from my, separated only by wood and glass. I am frozen. He raises his hand, which contains a black object that he brings near the lock on the storm door. The lock pulls back, acted upon magnetically. The man studies the lock of the inside door carefully, then turns and calls to one of the others, asking for his lock-pick kit. I turn and run.
Got to hide, got to hide... tears stream down my face as I race deep into my big old house, looking for a hiding spot, anywhere where I will be safe from them. My eyes settle on the door to the old enclosed porch at the front of the house, which has not been used for years for anything other than storage. Without another thought, I tear open the door to the porch and slam it behind me. Glancing around frantically, I see an open spot underneath the window, next to a stack of boxes. I hunker down into it, grabbing an old blue down comforter that lies nearby, and cover myself up, praying that I won’t be seen, that I’ll blend in with the rest of the junk. There is a tiny hole in the comforter, and I position it over my left eye so that I can see out, watching the door and the space in front of me. I curl up and wait.

I concentrate on slowing my breathing down, so that it will not give me away if anyone comes through the door. A stack of magazines digs into my back, but I don’t care. Where are my sister and grandmother? I hope they got away, I think. I am desperately afraid. I hear footsteps of several men coming down the hall, and my breath stops. They advance towards my hiding spot, ever closer, then to my utter relief they turn and go up the stairs. I breath a tiny sigh and close my eyes, praying. Suddenly the doorknob rattles, and the door is shoved inward. My eyes snap open and I hold my breath while my brain screams in terror. My eye glued to the hole in the blanket, I watch. It is the man in the blue shirt. His tie has been loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looks absurdly casual, as though this sort of thing is absolutely normal for him. He walks into the room, stepping carefully over boxes and dust balls. His eyes sweep over the piles of junk that line the walls. He walks closer to my hiding spot, and all my muscles tense, but he continues past me. I can’t dare to hope...maybe he won’t see me...oh, God, maybe he won’t see... He searches the corners with his eyes, then turns. His gaze locks on my blanket. I freeze dead solid, every muscle in my body straining, every neuron screaming, every hair standing on end. My eyes are the size of saucers. He stops. I can’t breathe, an iron band is around my chest, squeezing the air out...he stares. He stares. Then he turns slowly and walks back to the door where he came in. My heart jumps, electrified. Could it be...maybe he hasn’t seen! I can hear footsteps coming back down the stairs. He turns slightly in the doorway, glances back. The other men join him. He gestures towards the blanket, and my heart plummets.
“She’s under there,” he says very softly to the man on his left. They all stand there, watching, five men clustered in the doorway. I am reduced to pure terror, a quivering blob. Very, very slowly, I lower the blanket until just my eyes and the top of my head are showing. I stare at them, unable to think. They look back, their eyes neither threatening or kind, but cool. I lock gaze with the blue-shirted man, unable to take my eyes off him, he who comes across so unequivocally powerful, the leader. I can’t move, I can’t think. My back presses painfully into the magazines behind me, wanting to melt through them, wanting to disappear. My eyes are humongous, every muscle frozen in absolute, debilitating terror.
“We got the grandmother and the sister. They know nothing,” one of the other men says quietly to the man in blue. My eyes grow even wider at this, and my stomach rolls sickeningly.
The man in blue stares right into my eyes, never breaking his gaze for a second, a hint of a strange look on his face, almost a touch of...compassion? He turns his head slightly to speak to the man on his left. “How old is she?”
“Nineteen,” the man answers.
“She’s like a cornered animal. Look at her eyes.” He pauses. The man looks at me calmly. “Did you bring the tranquilizers?” blue man asks.
The man nods and turns...
TRANQUILIZERS???! With this, I bolt straight up from the floor and in one smooth movement am leaping towards the window behind me, praying that the glass will shatter when I hit it. It does. Cries of surprise ring out behind me. As I fly through the broken window I feel shards of glass bite into my flesh, and suddenly a hand goes around my ankle.
“NO!!!!!!” I shriek as my momentum is checked, and I fall hard to the ground outside. “NO! Ahhh ahhh ahhh...” I keen shrilly, all boundaries of terror passed, the situation incomprehensible now. I kick my leg, trying to shake the hand, trying to get away. Still holding tightly to my ankle, the man in blue climbs the rest of the way out the window, careful to avoid the remaining glass. He kneels next to me. Too much, too much. My body shuts down, and I curl fetally into myself.
“Noooo...Nooo,” I chant repeatedly, shuddering.
“Easy. Easy,” he says, his hands on my shoulders, holding me down. “We aren’t going to hurt you.” The other man steps through the broken-out window, a black case in his hands. He quietly hands the case to the man in blue. I close my eyes, rocking back and forth on the ground, sobbing softly to myself. The man in blue pushes my shirt sleeve up. I feel a sharp pain in my arm, then a burning sensation as the drug drains in.
“No...” I whisper. All is lost now.
He rubs my back gently as blackness closes in.
____________________________________________
Copyright June 2001

------------------
~Always Searching~

[Edited 1 times, lastly by ShadowDancer on 06-22-2001]

Tech

Houston, TX
2691 posts, Jul 2000

posted 06-22-2001 02:25 PM            

---

Wow, I'm glad you said it was a dream!

Thanks for sharing your story, ShadowDancer and welcome...

Mystic Warrior

S. Bossier, Louisiana
1583 posts, Mar 2001

right here
2553 posts, Dec 2000

megasprayer news

The Homeland
1366 posts, Apr 2001

posted 06-22-2001 04:39 PM            

---

Sound like just another day in the life to me.

I guess you all know how I feel about lucid dreaming, chemtrails and information that surfaces within the contect of dream states.

Shadowdancer has touched on something with regards to the newspaper headline in her dream.

I have every reason to believe that an effort is being undertaken to portray the people involved in this initiative as belonging to one or another 'fringe groups'. This is being done, right now, by way of association.

All TPTB need is one Timothy McVeigh style patsy to discredit this entire effort.

Food for thought.

1280 posts, Oct 2000

Mystic Warrior

S. Bossier, Louisiana
1583 posts, Mar 2001

Running With A Different Pack

Western New York
79 posts, Jun 2001

posted 06-22-2001 06:42 PM            

---

Thanks all for your welcomes and kind responses. Yes, I'll have to admit that this was a VERY scary dream... I have read about lucid dreaming, but never had any success with it. I guess once my mind starts on any particular course it must stay it through until the end. Now that I look again at the "headline" in my dream, I realize that it's very true that this is how we who seek the truth are portrayed. That is, until the real truth comes bursting out, and then we who believed originally are thought of by the general public as "the ones who know something we don't." My goodness, if only more people would pay attention in the first place, right? Anyway, I guess that's all I have to say for the moment.
~ShadowDancer

------------------
~Always Searching~

[Edited 2 times, lastly by ShadowDancer on 06-22-2001]

Mystic Warrior

S. Bossier, Louisiana
1583 posts, Mar 2001

quarky

North Carolina
668 posts, Apr 2001