Postmodernism Prevails

We are slaves to a strange man, tending his vegetable garden in a place that looks like my old house. A stream runs through the backyard. We move empty, infertile soil around in a pretense of work.

It is night, we have been called inside. I play pool with a very attractive man, he resembles Andrew the Waiter. I am not sure I am playing correctly.

We escape, dashing across the plot of land into the stream. One slave is sucked underground as he runs, but the rest of us make it safely to the water. The sky is red, perhaps signifying sunset.

We find ourselves at a carnival. I locate the French festivities and seat myself across from Spencer. We are handed several different cheeses and some sort of ham. We are told not to eat them right away, but we do. We are hungry. Behind Spencer I can see children cavorting on an inflatable trampoline.

We return to the house where our master lives, hoping to rescue our fellow that was trapped upon trying to leave. We circle the house quietly, but risk discovery as our ex-owner sits in his study, looking out the window. We leave.

As the others walk down the driveway, I change my mind and turn around. The slaver is actually my respected mentor in many things, and I think it is worth it to pay him a visit. I enter the house, make my way to the study and crawl underneath a table in order to better observe his activities. He turns around, and it is the Andrew the Waiter-like man. He espies me crouching underneath the furniture and coaxes me out gently.
He gives me a guitar and makes me sit in his lap and play for him, like a father. I notice he is slightly fatter and slightly less well-groomed. but when I mention this to him, he laughs and says that everyone changes. I feel small but safe and secure, like a child. We sing a song together.