The Desert

I am in the desert and there are two hills. I am on one hill and looking at the other. The sky is a hazy reddish color and the sand is the same. On the second hill there is a house. The house is a white farm house—black roof, two windows on the second story, two windows on the first story, and a black door in the middle. All of a sudden there is a horrific scream and a slam. Red smoke billows out from under the door and the sides of the door. The red smoke is blood. I look away and to my surroundings. I am in a white robe and in a cubicle—like an office cubicle. There is a person in front of me and a person behind me. We are all working with our hands and neither person looks at me, they just keep working. Our job is slicing and we are mechanically doing our job. I look down at what I am slicing and realize there is a baby in my hands. The baby is grey and the eyes are black and hollow and it is staring up at me in despair and with no emotion. I wake up sad.