January 17th, 2013

At a large, open-air stadium with friends from Delaware and my wife. We're there to see Springsteen or someone like him. The stadium is packed. The North Korean army marches in and takes a seat in the center of the stadium. They face us. I'm suddenly worried about being publicly beaten. I flash back to a vivid memory of my last public beating in this very place. I'm standing on a stage in the center of the stadium. I'm a bloody mess. North Korean soldiers surrounded me. It was apparent to me that the audience did not approve of my beating, but they remained silent and watched.

The memory fades and I am growing increasingly more anxious about my impending beating. I tell my wife and friends I am going to get something to eat--I really intend to escape. For some reason they (my wife and friends) do not recall my former beating, or, it's possible they just refuse to mention it. I walk down the cement steps, past the concession, and into the parking lot. There, a North Korean soldier approaches me and says, "Bryan?" I just look at him and he adds, "There's no escape." He smiles and gently leads me to a room where other soldiers are present. They shove me around a bit and laugh, relishing the knowledge that they'll have a chance to beat me very shortly. 

I am ushered out of the room and onto the field in the center of the stadium. I see that President Obama and Michelle Obama are in the audience, sitting in the second row. I now look forward to being beaten because I'm certain Obama will intervene. But then I recall that a former president (couldn't remember which one) was in the audience the last time I was beaten. When the pummeling began, the secret service swiftly surrounded the president and pulled him to safety before he could help me.

And now I realize the same will happen again--Obama will be pulled to safety and I will face the merciless fists of North Korean soldiers.