I had the most terrifying dream. I was to be burnt at the stake. Hitler was in power in the United States and the White Citizens’ Councils were his henchmen. Twelve of us were to be burned at the stake and the technique was, they sewed you, including your head, into a burlap suit and threw you on the pyre.
I had decided to take them out for lunch ahead of time, to a hip, modern restaurant. In the meantime, they wanted get the fire really hot, so things would go fast once they threw us on. We were waiting as they started it. Next we would go to lunch, after which we would come back and burn.
As the bonfire grew larger and brighter I cast my eyes about and realized there really was no path on which to run away. Lunch notwithstanding, these peoples’ minds would not be changed. They would throw us on the pyre and it would be a terrifying and painful death.
Then I woke up. It was 5:30 AM and I did not feel normal until late afternoon. I tried to discern what this dream had to do with my life. I decided it must be the current spate of church burnings — that followed the church shooting, if you remember.
And trying to understand my colleague, perhaps, as well — the closet Confederate. Here, however, is quite another take on matters, worth reading.