Bowl of pebbles

The Pebbles

   Dream Journal

I AM AT THE KINGDOM HALL. I’m in charge of the sound system. The meeting starts and I play a song I’ve written myself. The audience don’t like it and no one sings. I’m upset but then I realise they don’t know I wrote it. They think the song was composed by the governing body. Even so, they are criticising it. I point out that they are speaking against the “faithful and discreet slave” but they don’t seem to care.

I sit down on the floor at the front of the auditorium, cross-legged and naked under a blue crocheted blanket. My dad is on the platform conducting the Watchtower Study. I’m packing things into small plastic boxes—ice packs, cutlery, pebbles. My dad is annoyed that I’m not listening to the meeting and calls me out to the congregation. I feel embarrassed but I continue packing regardless.

I place the pebbles in a bowl and mix them up with sweets that look like pebbles. Then I hand the bowl around the audience. A boy takes 5 pebbles—or sweets?—from the bowl. I tell him he’s greedy and make him put them all back. 

My friend, Chris, is complaining that someone has polished his mahogany sideboard and ruined it. He explicitly stated in writing that no one should do this. 

I exit the hall through a door next to the platform and fly over a grassy field