disturbing

I had a series of mostly violent, science fiction dreams last night.
They are fading from memory, but throughout the night had a lot of cohesion, each story wound its way into the next, the context was given, so each new element added color to the story.

I think I played the main character in each segment because I could remember their feelings, their perception of things... some of it was so real that I woke startled... for instance the torture scene... it just didn't feel too good.

In waking, I can recognize elements of the story from things I have seen in real life, video games, movies, news stories, books... but it also had a real life quality to it that was hard to shake.

The story began after a world event of massive destruction.  9 of the worlds leaders had been targeted, all 9 had been killed at the exact same time, sometimes by incredibly awful means. The idea was to inspire terror in the leadership. The same thing had happened to the world's richest men.

It was midnight, I was aware that this had occurred, whether I had prior knowledge or not, I knew that I needed to leave quickly. My St Paul apartment would quickly be compromised, as it was also the dwelling of the Vice President (now made President). He used the apartment for secret parties and affairs, but it would need to be scrubbed before the media confirmed that he was indeed alive and well.  Would they search the other apartments? They were on lockdown within minutes.

I could already hear the guards pulling up outside the building, but knew that they were not coordinated enough to know what to look for yet.  I had my things, by 3 AM, I snuck out the back way, there were guards, 3 soldiers and a military jeep, but they didn't notice.   I was walking towards Minneapolis. It was not a warm day yet, on each corner soldiers were being posted, this was full scale war until further notice, the army had responded quickly but still had no information on what to look for. A guy walking around in the morning in his own city doesn't look suspicious.  I knew I was meeting up with folks, continuing my life, but had to wait until a proper time to start the real day.
I stopped in at a store or two, my mind was racing about the plan.

The plan was simple and yet complex. No one knew who was involved, no one knew how it started and no one knew if it truly would work. 170 operatives, vaguely I knew I was involved but had no idea whether I had recruited the operatives or if I was one of them.  I knew I had not been directly involved in any of the murders the previous day, but I also knew that they would happen. I knew like I knew what would happen next.  PANIC
The idea was to instill fear in the leadership, in the rich and powerful. The people would be told the only way to ensure their own safety was to level the playing field. If by chance you happen to be in the same room with the wealthy man of your city, there was no way of knowing whether you would be blown up, or gassed, or given some disgusting bacterial disease. Our operatives were fully equipped with all types of weaponry. How did I know this? I didn't, but I did.
The rich and powerful would be told to step down. To give up their wealth, to roll over and play dead.
They wouldn't of course. So yearly this would happen.
18 of the rich and powerful, every year, with independent slayings happening all the time by the citizenry. How long till every system fell?

The war was on.

I didn't know my part, suddenly I remembered the only evidence to my involvement was on my phone, a coded poem.  An "assignment" for class, I checked my pocket and began to laugh... I had left it in the apartment. Would they search it?   Would they know?

My character spent the next few weeks wondering  about that while a general state of emergency tried to still the panic.  Eventually the army got word of where he was, and offered to return the phone.

*****There were a series of shorter dreams that played a part but that I can't remember*****

Finale

The war has been going for years... It is hard to know how many because technology has advanced, along with the militarism of the state. This is not the world we know.
I am a woman, I believe the Grand daughter of the first character. I am an operative, but I do not know my mission. We operate like Manchurian Candidates, we know just enough of the whole plan to keep up to date, but nothing of our own mission, nor that of our fellow operatives.

I am on the run. Through a series of awful encounters, I am aware that I have very little regard for human life, and neither do they.
I am captured

The torture is quick, but prolonged (I will explain).

I remember all types of pain but it wasn't until they started directly meddling with my brain that I spoke up. They were triggering vocal responses directly by applying electricity to different areas of my brain. I was furious... it all came out. 170 operatives *maybe more now, but all I knew was what every operative knew. Every year. Operatives were worthless once they had completed their mission, they would sink back into public life, kill themselves or wait to be reassigned. They were supposed to make it as graphic and violent as possible so no one would want that kind of death.  I did not know when it would stop. I did not know who started it.

I was the first operative to be captured and successfully mined for information, a wound to my pride. But within moments I saw and felt the most awful thing... They removed my brain from my skull. The lid of my head plopped back into place loudly.  I had no awareness and yet knew I was dying.
I tried to think of how anything was possible but couldn't think...

I saw myself in the mirror, I knew that I was restrained, the men came over and began to cut into my flesh, to saw through my head, they removed my brain, and my body fell over.

I saw myself in the mirror, I knew that I was restrained, the men came over and began to cut into my flesh, to saw through my head, they removed my brain, and my body fell over.

I saw myself in the mirror, I knew that I was restrained, the men came over and began to cut into my flesh, to saw through my head, they removed my brain, and my body fell over.

I saw myself in the mirror, each time my face changed slightly darker, slightly more grotesque, I knew that I was restrained. The men came over and flourished in their duty of inflicting pain, cutting into me, they had become artists in their mastery of torture, it was like a beautiful show designed to get the bad guy... or girl,  me.  They removed my brain, and my body fell over.

Each time I watched I became subtly more aware of the production and style. The slight alterations to the show. Each time I had no choice but to face the torment, to die.

I saw myself in the mirror, this time I was talking to them my tormentors. I asked them please do these things, cure me of myself. I saw that I had horns, two growing out of my forehead, another from my chin, and two from my temples. These were artificially grown, obviously didn't belong, but my voice was pleading with them to save me from myself.  They began the torture, only this time it was the removal of my demonhood, and I cheered them on. As each horn was removed I became more and more innocent looking... but lastly they had to put me down... it was an act of mercy. They removed my brain, and my body fell over.

The act repeated itself... I was a thousand clones and each time the army that would punish me turned out to be my saviors. This was propaganda for the masses. I had no idea if it worked or not. Only that each time was as painful, each time was the only thing I experienced. A few minutes of the procedure before I was destroyed again. The world continues this way.