Dream: Tree Creatures

I am part of an underground militia, or insurgent group. We live in tree houses, and fly planes — all ancient, barely operable. Some not even planes at all — many of us try to fly with giant wooden wing-like contraptions, much like the first human attempts at flight.

We fly over the people, dropping all sorts of chemical weapons on them. Burning their skin — even women and children.

I hate this with every fiber of my being. I don’t want to do it — I want to cry, to kill myself. But somehow I know it has to be done: I feel the cause is just and right, and that I have no choice.

Every night in the tree house I am up late, barely sleeping, mixing more chemicals….

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)