I dreamed I had been arrested in a former Soviet bloc country, along with a group of about 20 other travelers. I don’t know why my dream took place in Georgia.
We approached the border in our bus, surrounded by fences liberally bedecked with barbed wire. Uniformed men with machine guns were everywhere, and the bus stopped. We were transported to some sort of incarceration facility, where we were given hideous overalls made of some sort of coarse material and put into a large room, all together.
At some point they gave us “our papers,” which we were supposed to keep with us at all times. This didn’t make a lot of sense, because we were already incarcerated–what good were papers going to do? They also handcuffed us when we were being processed to go into the facility, though they did let us out of the handcuffs afterward. I think they may have been trying to make a point about who was in charge.
The strangest thing, though, was that in our large area, where we prisoners were allowed to wander free, there was a stack of handmade, hand-written books. One of them was the Bible, painstakingly recreated by the many prisoners who had a verse or two memorized. Over the years the Bible had been completed. The other books were original writings by the prisoners, some fictional, and some detailing their lives both before they had been imprisoned and afterward. I was impressed at the workmanship of the handwritten texts.
It was a very strange dream.