I dreamed there was a war. It didn't feel like a true dream, thankfully, more like a response to what is going on in Aleppo and the United States. Sometimes I do start having true dreams around the turn of the year, though, and I can only hope if I do have one it bears no relation to last night's.
I dreamed that people were writing and tattooing numbers, parts of social security numbers etc., all over their bodies. Not because the government was making us do it, but because it made identifying the bodies and body parts so much easier and they didn't want relatives to go on never knowing if they lived or died.
I dreamed there were packs of orphaned, feral children, that roamed the streets in gangs during the day and slept in parks at night. They slept in trees to avoid the wild animals and packs of feral dogs and coyotes that scavenged rough the night.
One group of children was more ostracized than the others, whether for mental deficiencies or because they were LGBTQA wasn't clear. The adults decided to burn out the trees in their park, and though they had been repeatedly warned, these kids had no place to go.
I dreamt that temples were claiming children as property to protect them, by placing collars made of wreathed flowers around their necks. They tried to mark this group of children, only due to a shortage and need to order more collars, only seven or eight (about half) or the children could be official claimed and brought into church property.
And I dreamt the fires were laid, and adults watched with indifference as the trees burned. A few of the remained children made it out, and the rest burned in their trees, unable to escape when they woke to fires burning in the branches all around them.
And this is why I am awake, early in the morning, despite having gone to bed late. I don't want to dream anymore.