Dreaming in Digital

I visited the store. Many things changed. My vegan supervisor became a police officer and she collected donations at the entrance. I apologized to her, for not saying goodbye when I had quit the store.


In my second dream, I took some friends around Toronto, spending most of my time with Shortbread and her sister. We took the PATH underground, which was, at this time of day, abandoned. It had a different appearance than usual.

We stopped at a chocolate shop. I wanted to treat my taste buds to something, but I couldn't decide. The sales lady asked what did I feel like having, and I said, "salty, but sweet." She gave me a 1" x 2" rectangle that may've been salted caramel, and after entering the cost, the chip'n'pin machine. Not entirely sure what screen I was on, I entered $100.00 when prompted for an amount. The lady replied, "no, no, no," and it ejected five $100 bills. The last bill was for 100 rupees, which I handed to her, as I didn't know what to do with it.

It was time for my friends to leave, so we surfaced the PATH at Dundas Square. Saying goodbyes, I watched my friends gather in a bus driven by an overweight woman.

There was a dream before, but I don't remember it well enough to record. My sister had signed up for a cultural event. She had also volunteered Cookie and I before we agreed to it. We were annoyed because she was bailing. This happened in my childhood apartment.

I had finished work and GrannySmith, and another girl worked with us. We closed the shop, which was a small bakery, and exited, looking for the fourth employee who worked with us. This girl was Samoan and overweight, but despite her nanny-like clothing, she was absolutely beautiful. I watched her stuff her feet into white high heels many sizes too small - her feet overflowed as if it were a cartoon.

Everything was underground; we never saw sky. We all entered the subway which had huge, metre-long, cream, laminate tiles. Everything was covered in this tile: the floor, the walls, the staircases and banisters. On the subway platform, I chatted with the other girl who had shoulder-length brown hair; GrannySmith had gone elsewhere. We hopped aboard the train that arrived. She lived on the last stop, and I had to meet Cookie who went out with the rest of Pfeffernüsse's groomsmen for some pre-wedding fun. On the second last stop, GrannySmith jumped on our train; she left earlier to do something. She talked about shoe shopping, and I thought about it too.

We made it to the end of the line. There was Cookie, waiting for me at the platform; he was waving goodbye to the group. I left the train with the girl and GrannySmith to join him. I don't remember how we were notified, but we weren't allowed to get back on the train or leave the station. Death appeared before everyone. He was seven feet tall, and his body and face were covered in a blood-coloured cloak. In one hand, he carried a shiny scythe. I watched him allow select people on the train, and the train leave back the way it came. Cookie was allowed on, and I watched him go.

The train came back the next day. There was sky above us and we weren't underground anymore. It was cream, like the subway tile, and hazy. My brunette friend said she forgot something on the train, and Death let her enter. I heard her scream, "ouch!", and a couple of minutes later, came out with an orange plastic bag in hand. Death studied her for a moment, then pointed to the train telling her, "go." She handed her bag to me and hastily obeyed. The train left for the day.

The train came back again the next day, and GrannySmith and I watched people get on, though we weren't allowed ourselves. I questioned why these people were allowed to enter the train. If Death was among us, I assumed the train led back to our everyday lives; I wanted to be on the next train. I opened the orange bag. Aside from an empty, white box, there was a pamphlet with a drawing of a woman breastfeeding. Her nipple was erect and exposed. Did my friend get hurt breastfeeding, and is that why she was allowed to leave? It didn't make sense to me.

This day, the train wasn't in the station. Death had gone for a little walk. There were pine trees surrounding us. The sky was still cream. GrannySmith was still here, and by now, the extrovert in her had died. In an instant, Death leaped over trees, bounding as quickly as he could to the few on the platform. "It's time."

He stood close to me. I bowed my head and closed my eyes as he hummed a rhyme repeatedly. Everyone seemed to know they lyrics except I. I hugged him and he hugged me. His bony hands ruffled the hair at the back of my head, then gently sliced it off with his scythe. My anxiety began to run through me. He sliced another handful of hair. I felt my heart drop, as if the beginning of a heartbreak, and my chest heaved heavy as I started to sob. His hands pulled my remaining hair into a neat bow on the top of my head.

The last line of the rhyme I heard before waking up was, "we are going to die."