I awaken in the dark surrounded by bars. It must be night because the room is dark, cold, and quiet. I have been here before or maybe forever. Months or years have passed I cannot be certain. I cannot remember when I ate last, but I am weak from lack of food. My blanket has fallen and I am too weak to reach it. My vision is blurred but I am sure there is no one to see. The monotony is broken only by my own unanswered cries for help. The room and my body smells of my own waste, but there is nothing I can do.
A noise from the hall and the door swings wide as someone breaks into the room. There is a blinding light behind them and I cannot see. I protest swinging my arms and kicking with all my might but the person is big and strong and throws me about. Sometimes words are spoken but I cannot understand them. Sometimes there is food but not this time. I have never understood what they want and then just as sudden the door is shut and the dark and quiet comes again. It would help if I knew why I was here but no one can tell me. Weary I sleep and again the room smells of my own waste. It has been this way forever and there is no chance of escape. In this room there is nothing to live for and it is not an honorable way to live or die.
With all my strength I rolled over falling off the couch into my living room floor. I looked about the room realizing it was a dream that I have had through the years. I’ve always thought it was a dream about the future, but now I awake in tears for the dream wasn’t always a dream. I don’t think we were supposed to remember our first months on Earth lying face down on those endless dark quiet nights unable to see clearly or comprehend that awful crib with bars. It depresses me more that we wonder why children are afraid of the dark and why infants die in the crib.