Dream Journal
Damon and I walked into a town in which everything was tiny: the buildings came up to our shoulders and the trees came to our knees. All of the people were little bitty and reminded me of elves. They entertained us for a very long time. In the basement of their church, the mayor and the pastor provided food and shelter for us.
The pastor was old and a little round; he had white hair, a white beard, and spectacles. Damon talked for lengths to the mayor; she had very interesting stories about their little town. When she left, she locked the door. There was no way we could get out.
We tried to remember how we had gotten into this little town, but were unable. One of the windows in the basement opened a few inches, but not enough for anyone to squeeze through.
I picked up a phone that was sitting on a nearby desk and tried calling b. I didn’t have to use an area code, which I thought to be quite unusual. B wasn’t home, but I did leave a message on the answering machine.
Then I tried calling Brian, but I couldn’t remember his phone number. I picked the phone up again, and Brian was on the other line. I asked him for his number, and he was curious how I had called him without knowing his number. I suggested that perhaps it was the same number as the phone I was using. It was a very important piece of the puzzle, but I couldn’t quite understand it. He gave me his number anyway: 1121.
I managed to get out of the little basement, and I stole a police car. I was amazed to even fit inside of one. I went back and got Damon. The good thing about stealing a cop car is that even though the entire town knows it’s stolen and is out looking for it, I can park it right next to another cop car and no one will suspect a thing.
I had remembered a girl driving me around before we were locked in the church basement, so I followed where I remembered her going. We drove over a small bridge and into a large room that was darkened by the stone walls - it was a man-made cave. On the left were an emergency phone and a keypad. We tried a few different key combinations in hopes that a door would open, and then we picked up the phone.
From the phone came a pre-recorded message. It was the pastor’s voice: “Are you a young male interested in coming to summer camp? Do you have a strong, hard, hot body? Do you know how to tilt your head in just the right way?” We were disgusted and couldn’t listen to any more.
The mayor and pastor showed up and we knew getting away was hopeless.