scary

I stood out on the street and watched a great group of people making their way down toward the plaza. They would have to pass our store. Fists waving in the air and voice rising above the frenzy, an uneasy knot began tying itself in my stomach. I ran inside the store where my mother and sister were baking bread. We should've drawn the curtains. Preoccupied with hiding all our ingredients and supplies, I looked outside our wall-to-wall front windows and saw some of the mob passing by. I looked one second too long. One of the mob caught my glance and in doing so began to make his way toward our store. He wore a heavy wooden mask resembling Lord Farquaad and his movements were stiff and rigid. When he approached our glass door he poked at it with a wooden finger. Poke. Poke. It wasn't forceful but it was threatening. He continued to poke the door as we cowered against the wall. The poking finally broke through the door. As the glass shattered onto the ground, we screamed...

I don't often remember my dreams and hardly ever have nightmares, but this dream was one I remembered quite vividly. Perhaps it's because I've been watching the History Channel declassified series on Chairman Mao and Stalin. When people ask what I fear the most, I answer with silly replies such as spiders and pigeons. But the thing I fear most, above all things is Man. When watching mob scenes on TV and in movies, I still cannot believe that people are capable of being so cruel to one another. Also, my dream reminded me that in a mob, there are only a handful of people who truly believe in the cause they are fighting for. The rest are there in a violent agitated state, looking for an excuse to behave abominably.

People are scary. They can do such good, yet are capable of such evil. A wary dichotomy.