I record my dreams in a dream diary.
This is a dream that has visited me twice already. It seems important otherwise it would not have recurred. It is violent like most of the dreams I remember are. Wonder why I dream such stuff?
Dream last night …
It is a narrow street, sandy. The sand is stuck in my toe nails. Rough, itchy …
We laugh. I have two companions with me, one is a girl slightly younger than me but tall. She has long hair tightly plaited into two plaits and turned over, tied in ribbons, bright red ribbons that are looped into flowers at her head. The youngest is short, has really curly short hair, sunbleached to brown. She is adorable with a minx like expression. She has just said something funny and we are in splits. She knows she is cheeky and she laughs too. I love her.
There are high walls, sun bleached bricks … no, they are just brick walls with a lime wash on them, bottle green doors that lead to homes.
Our laughter stops as stones and sand are pelted at us. We are scared, and we run. My rubber slipper gets lost in the sand. We want to get home.
“Parkati” somebody says.
That is what they call girls with short hair. What do they have against our hair?
The little one falls. I stop to pull her up. Her shoulder does not feel right. Her bone is dislocated. I try to drag her, she whimpers.
The tall one runs, she is fast and is nearly at the bottle green door when something shiny cuts her feet.
They don’t like us to run too fast.
They don’t like us to laugh so loud.
Something sharp cuts my throat.
I wake up.