The Poison Shower

I dreamed I talked to a friend of mine.  We were walking home from something, at night.  I don't remember what was said, but I felt like I'd feel if I really was talking to him.  Nothing was decided.  After dropping him off at his apartment, I continued on for a little bit, fumbling with an envelope in my hand that turned out to be a cell phone.  I was asking Krystin, on the other end, for directions.  As we talked, I climbed a staircase on the side of an apartment building to the very top, where I balanced carefully on the wrought iron railing, and still with the paper phone in my hand, spread my arms and jumped off.  I dipped pretty low, but with a little effort gained some altitude and glided over the neighborhood, skimming fences and trees.  It felt good to fly again.  Passing through a playground, I untied the shoelace of a little boy on the swings.  He screamed, and I smirked and wove on through the fences and houses in search of a particular backyard.  I found it after some winding and landed there, a small suburban yard enclosed by a brand new oak fence, ship-tight and golden.  

There was an old metal shower head on a curved pipe extending from the back of the house.  It was running on full.  A little boy in a long white shirt and Thom Yorke stood underneath the stream, and both were sobbing and sobbing and sobbing.  A man with two or three other little kids kept passing the children through the water.  He pulled the little boy out of the shower a couple of times, but the kid kept running back to stand under the water, where his sobs would turn into screams.  The man did his best to keep his other children wet - he pulled over the little girl and put her hands under the water until she started to whimper. Thom Yorke never moved, just stood there sobbing like a child, his face all screwed up together.  When the little boy kept running back, the father finally pulled him out by the arm and told him firmly, "It's your sister's turn now.  Everyone gets a turn under the poison shower."

A little chilling?  It keeps niggling at the back of my mind like there's something I'm supposed to learn.  Figures; I think there's a lot I'm supposed to be learning right now.  I'll think about it some more and get back to it later.