In my dream, I am in a hotel room with two other guys. We are there to close a big business deal. I think it has to do with that corner of the intersection of Wilson Point Road and Eastern Avenue. Ages ago, it was a baseball "stadium" for the Martins Aircraft company team and a set of four seldom-used tennis courts . Since the stadium was torn down and the courts removed, to the best of my recall, it has simply stayed as an open field. Grass that was well mown, but otherwise empty. So it represented quite a reasonable investment for commercial development.
We're pretty excited about the deal, and Jack McMichael -- one of the two other people -- seems to be in the lead. The third person is an Unidentifiable.
Jack is disappointed in the room. It's small and it feels as if the three of us are supposed to share it. There's only enough room for a single bed. In particular, there is -- what I think was -- a light switch that should have been a 3-way or other advanced function, but is only an on/off switch and not a very solid one at that.
Jack feels he should apologize to myself and that 3rd person. We kind of feel the same, but we feel bad for Jack as well. Somehow, the idea of changing accommodations is not feasible.
(I have the feeling that I'd stayed at this facility back when I was doing a lot of business travel and got used to the small size etc., but I don't see any reason to mention that to the other guys.)
We find ourselves outdoors in a parking lot. It may be the lot right behind the motel where we're staying, but that's not for certain. It's a bright day and feels like morning. Across the asphalt of the (empty) parking spaces, there is an "elevator," which is certainly disturbing: it is simply a platform with a blank wall at the back and another blank wall on the left side -- but the other two sides are wide open to the world. So there isn't so much of an elevator car as it is simply a platform. There are no guide rails on any of the four sides of this platform. I can't see any mechanism that makes the platform go up and down, but I am sure that it does go up and down.
I understand clearly how dangerous it would be to ride this device. You could easily fall off the two open sides and its possible you could catch a piece of clothing in the gap between the platform and one of the two supporting walls. If you did catch a piece of clothing and couldn't shed it, you would likely be crushed when the platform moved.
Looking closer at the underside of the platform, I see the body of a child -- maybe 8 or 10 years old suspended underneath. Somehow, he seems to have gotten his head/neck caught between the wall and the platform with his body hanging under the platform. The body isn't moving -- and it seems incredibly unlikely that the child is alive at all. He's wearing blue.
Someone approaches the child -- not one of our party of three. The guy is tall and thin. He reaches up and touches the shoe of the child. I initially assume he's doing this to confirm that the child is dead, but he turns around to face everyone else in the parking lot (there may be a dozen or so of us) and shouts "I touched him!" I feel an immediate feeling of disgust. The man showed no sense of the nature of this tragedy -- he simply wanted to show the people in his group how brave he was.
No one in the larger group does or says anything. I can't tell whether it's because they don't care or whether they are as shocked and appalled as I am.
It seems/feels as if no one really knows what to do. The body of the child continues to hang under the elevator -- unmoving. Suspended by his neck.
Since I first saw the child, I've been trying to figure out a way to release and recover the body. It's horrifying to see it just hanging there. I can't imagine, however, how to do that. I "know" that the space between the platform and the back wall is quite small -- and depending on how thick the platform is, either the child's neck or his head has been crushed by the movement of the platform. I feel it's sensible to wait until some first responders with better equipment and/or better ideas show up.
I decide the reasonable/logical thing to do is to call 911. I pat down my pockets to find my phone, but can't locate it. I feel frustrated and annoyed at myself that I can't even do something active/constructive as calling 911.
I decide the only thing I can do would be to write a report -- just in case there was a legal proceeding that occurs after this horrible event.
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