I recently had a dream where I was working in the deep institutional bowels of some green-tinted “medical” facility – it reminded me of the morgue and autopsy areas with which I delivered many expired patients during my time at Mother Frances Hospital. Overbearing fluorescent lights, antiseptic chemical odors, and eerie stillness.
Yet, from the basement levels arose the torturous sounds of thousands of screaming infants. My primal and paternal instincts were in seeming contradiction – on one hand was the impulse to soothe and allay whatever distress the poor infants seemed to be enduring; on the other hand was a blinding rage to take a severe reprisal on whatever foul creature would inflict harm upon vulnerable and innocent little ones.
Running through the maze of long hallways, the sound echoed and reverberated all around me… I felt a slight tug of maddening panic, as though I would never find any course with which to nurture or avenge, but would wander aimlessly through an ocean of agony and suffering.
Finally, I found a door labeled “WAITING ROOM” and entered to find a spacious and sumptuously decorated antechamber, where a long line of women stood before another door. Pushing my way to the front of the line, I threw open the door and saw a woman drop her swaddling infant into some sort of “laundry chute” contraption built into the far wall.
As the infant slid down into the cavernous viscera of the institution, the woman was immediately surrounded by a group of white-robed “doctors” that repeatedly told her that “everything was just fine” and “it was never alive” and “there is no suffering” as well as other sorts of empty condolences. The woman`s eyes were empty and she had the bearing of one that is either heavily drugged or catatonic.
Hearing the wailing rise up again from the still-open ductway, I suddenly lunged at the group and grabbed one of the “doctors” by the lapels of his coat. Shaking him violently, I screamed: “They`re alive you monsters! All of them are still alive!”
Upon this, I awoke.