A Town Called Gale

I’m still having medical problems, and at 4:00 AM I awoke in pain.

The nightmare that woke me concerned a town called Gale, Kansas.

It was a town for young murderesses and their parents.

If your child had killed another child, your family would be relocated to Gale, to start a new life under an assumed name.

There were no Holiday Inns in Gale. Tourism was not merely discouraged, it was disallowed. A visitor stopping at the town’s filling station would be subtly encouraged to drive on.

Of course, nobody from the outside world knew the secret of Gale. Nobody knew but the parents and children who lived there.

I remember thinking “murderess” was unnecessarily sex-specific and overly harsh. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe your kid hadn’t meant to push that other kid. Maybe she’d meant to push but not to kill. Maybe she had no idea what kill even meant.

Hopefully you had more than one kid. That way nobody would be sure which was the murderer.

The parents of the town accepted each other and each other’s families because everyone shared the same tragedy. But there was never trust.

The town had a library, but no newspaper collection. Internet use was monitored to prevent the curious from learning specifics about each other’s crimes.

As they grew up, the children were encouraged to date each other, to marry, to stay in the town.

Why Gale? Gustav, I imagine.

Why Kansas? Something to do with Dorothy, I suspect.

Comments off.

[tags]gale, kansas, dorothy, murder, murderer, dreams, parenting, families, wizard of oz[/tags]

Number Nine

Early this morning, in my last deep sleep, I was tormented by a nightmare concerning our three-year-old. In my dream, she was chasing some happy bauble. Call it a big floating bubble filled with sunshine. The bubble blew out of the park. She ran after it. I ran after her.

The bubble floated above a big street filled with speeding cars. I called her name and shouted stop, but she did not hear me or would not listen. Giggling and burbling, all young enthusiasm for the chase, she ran into the street of speeding cars. I ran into it after her.

The pursuit continued, block after block. The oblivious bubble. The excited child, dashing into street after street of speeding cars. Me behind, never able to catch up, never able to protect her, never able to make her stop.

Happy Father’s Day.

[tags]dreams, family, glamorous, parenting[/tags]