THE ARMS POLICY
Dreamed 2000/4/7 by Chris Wayan
It's gotten bad here. Like Argentina's old "Dirty War". Soldiers come in vans and drag off people they consider subversive. Most of them never come back.
I witness a group abduction. The victims seem stunned, helpless, unable to believe things have gotten so corrupt so fast. The group I see taken outnumbers the cops that attack them, and they happen to be wearing bike helmets or hardhats. Despite their numbers and protection, they don't fight back as a group--just flee or resist individually. Surrounded one by one and dragged off. Later, I ask friends why. One says "even the Jews in Nazi Germany didn't fight back in an organized way. It's hard to believe till it happens to you."
An old sympathizer with a handlebar moustache gets a big cardboard box on his doorstep. It seems to be full of laundry, but when he starts pulling the clothes out, he finds they're sleeves torn off his friends' shirts and coats and dresses. With the arms still in them. Occasionally, in the case of small children, the whole body is here. Meant to scare him, I guess, but... it does something else.
He hangs up a clothesline his front yard, and pins the severed arms to it, for all to see.
Soon enough a cop car comes. They pull out a bullhorn and order him to take down the evidence of their crimes. "Put down your arms!" they roar, and draw their guns.
He just laughs crazily at them. "What more can you do to me? You've murdered everyone I love. You can't do any more to me but kill me, and if you kill me, I join my friends."
And goes on pinning.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
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