Trucks and Pigs


In my dream I am going for a run. I am nearing the intersection where I turn towards home. On the corner is a 7-Eleven. As I approach the corner, the traffic light turns red and cars begin to back up at the corner. This causes all the cars in the 7-Eleven parking lot to back up in the various driveway entrances leading out onto the street. And suddenly there are a lot of cars trying to get in and/or out of the 7-Eleven parking lot. All the driveways are full and all the vehicles are pulled across the sidewalk where I am running.

I watch as a pickup truck pulls out in front of me, the driver looking away from me to see if traffic is clear. I stop and wait for her to look at me so that I know she sees me before I try to run in front of her, but by the time that she looks she is pulled so far out that I can’t get around her without going out into traffic. Annoyed, I turn to run behind her, but another car is pulled so close that I have to go around that one too. And behind that car is a tanker truck, stopped alongside the building.

I try to find a way to weave my way between the vehicles but the farther I divert from the sidewalk the harder it becomes to run: my legs get heavier and harder to move with every step. I can barely breathe. I am moving in slow motion against impossible forces dragging me down to a standstill. I wake up before I make it to the corner.

In another dream, which I only partially remember, I am in a large livestock barn. It feels like an old building: everything is made out of wood. All around me are pens filled with different kinds of pigs. I am in charge of slaughtering them. To accomplish this, I am given a pitchfork with four long tines, which I am instructed to stab into the side of each pig to puncture their heart, allowing them to bleed out. If I do this right, there is no distress and no struggle. If I do it wrong- place the tines too far back along the side of the pig, for instance, I will miss the heart and the blood will flow inside and the meat will be spoiled and the pig will die for nothing. I am given a certain number of pigs that I am supposed to process- if I reach my quota, then I will be able to save somebody (that part of the dream I’ve forgotten the details of) so I set to work. The pigs are not alarmed at their fate: there are no squeals or fear, but still I feel guilt at each act. The work is not hard, but the more pigs that I process, the more difficult it becomes to do the next one. I wake up before I reach my quota.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on July 24, 2016.

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