The Pink Rose

I am in a dining hall of a private school. I have a pink rose. A beautiful nurse is sitting at the head table. I get up slowly, my hands shaking. I walk down the center aisle. The children stop eating and look at me. There are sneering. Some are giggling. As I approach her she smiles at me. She is all in white. I place the rose in front of her. I turn around, and walk slowly back to my seat, triumphant. I am Christ, I say to myself. I mean it partly as a joke but in this dream there is no irony. Her scream pierces through the air. It is terrible. It is a scream of horror. I know that if I turn my head I will see something no one should ever see. My legs feel weak under me. I am swirling into the vortex. The nurse’s face in my mind is a pink rose. She is being swallowed by the shark of the pink rose. I cannot turn my head. I will never turn my head.