even for the locals it was a hot sweltering day. we were huddled together in what seemed to be a church or a school. maybe it was a school, used as a church on the weekends. there were about ten of us trying to avoid the next explosion crashing into the building. the philippines had erupted in civil war a week or so before and we were on the run. our attackers' weapon of choice were quarter-sized explosives that were launched from sling shots.
glass shattered and spread across the room as yet another "quarter" shot through the window. we tried to escape but unfortunately several of our group did not dive out of the way in time.
there were only five of us left: momma e, moses, banana, andec, and myself. we had lost five other family members throughout the morning. after several failed attempts, we finally made our way outside to the cars. we piled into my car and moses followed in a circa 1974 lincoln towncar. as we tore through the dirt roads we aimed for any pedestrian we could see. at this point, everyone was an enemy. we arrived at a beachside resort that was much too fancy for our ragged clothes and mud stained skin. nobody seemed to care about our desperate pleas for help. even an american soldier was among the guests and he had but few encouraging words for us. the roads were blocked off in every direction with military and militia fighting for ground. for some reason none of us thought to contact the american embassy.
this dream brought to you by a predawn thunderstorm, lebanese and israeli blogs, driving by a catholic school last weekend, and an active imagination.