rhythma - sean michael imler

Music for the heart, mind, and spirit...

Rhythma Blog

Gears

I’m a young girl with long blonde hair. I’m maybe 12 or 13 years old, and I’m being moved from one place to another by someone who I think is my mom and a man whom I don’t know. I have a large duffle bag and a smaller bag with me that I dragging along on the street as we walk. Even tho I don’t know the man, I have a strange feeling about him that I can’t put my finger on. He’s trying to help me, but underneath, there’s a threat.

We’re standing at a street corner and we’re waiting for a light. I feel that there isn’t much time to move me to the new location so I’m confused why he insists that we stay on the corner thru an entire changing of the street light while other pedestrians cross. I sit down on my duffle bag to take a load off my feet and wait for the next round of lights to change. Suddenly, I’m pulled with my bags into some sort of combination of elevator, pulleys, stamps, and gear mechanisms. All of the steel gears and mechanisms are huge and I’m be moved this way and that, challenged to keep my balance and hold onto my bags. The gears and stamps are so large that I’m afraid I’ll be crushed. No sooner do I find a place that seems safe to position myself that I find another bar or shifting of stamp platforms is throwing me into harm’s way. The gears are churning and I’m barely hanging onto my bags with one hand while holding onto the only place that seems safe, but knowing that this last refuge on a platform is getting smaller and smaller and falling into an abyss is that last place to go.

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