Many moons ago I had a very vivid dream I’d been captured by cannibals. The dream took me though many efforts to escape, multiple re-captures. The majority of the dream took place in a two story house, with maybe a dozen or so people involved. A dozen cannibals, and me.
During one of my escapes and desperate attempts to get help for my plight, it became apparent the entire community was aware of the cannibals amongst them, and a desire to (understandably) not draw attention to themselves.
I would beg and plead for help, to no avail. And then I would get captured again.
After several recaptures , I resigned to my fate. My fear became about pain. The pain of being eaten alive, which I assumed was substantial. I had learned that meat is best consumed live. 😱
I asked a grandmotherly type whether they really needed to eat me for dinner. She expressed sympathy but was firm: “yes, young lady, you are ‘what’s for dinner'”.
I tried to make friends with some of the group. I tried to convince just one person, anyone, that I was too nice, too helpful, too funny, too pleasant. Why flush someone with those traits right down the toilet!?! I’m worth more alive!
Again, to no avail.
But I was successful expressing my fear of the pain of being consumed alive to a young man I found in the kitchen. Despite my status of “dinner”, I had free reign in the house. He said he’d give me something that would help when “dinner time” arrived.
So then I’m back in the main room, sitting with these kind folks, and said I needed something to eat. The lead up to dinner had gone on all day long, and I was famished. They considered what to feed me; I ate slowly. Very slowly. Trying to delay, delay, delay.
When I anticipated “dinner time” was nearly upon us, I searched for the man who said he could provide me that little bit of mercy. I was frantically searching for him. To no avail!
Then I woke up.
