16.
    When the doors opened, there was no eleventh floor. I was standing in front of a mock Crucifixion with the pathetic trio from my nightmare back with a vengeance. It was a dirty miracle floating in space. The monkey coyly posed on the cross with a vapid smirk on his face and his cup balanced over his head. The tramp played the virgin kneeling in mugged agony looking up at the cross and the monkey’s crotch. The thug was a sentry leering and drooling though crumbling teeth as he lasciviously clutched an assault rifle with one hand and luridly stroked the cross with the other. It was a party alright and I was the guest of honor. 

   This was a trap and these assholes weren’t kidding. The elevator doors had opened onto a dream, an ugly, familiar dream. The crowd screamed in ecstasy at the disgusting sight. They raised their hands with joy. They were pilgrims at the end of their long voyage staring into the face of the savior. Power and wealth threw up their arms in supplication to power and wealth. I backed into the elevator. 

   I looked around at the wild-eyed crowd frothing and foaming in almost sexual abandon. I tried to reach the elevator panel in vain. I turned around and looked for a way out. There was nothing but the obscene sideshow. I focused on one of the idiots who was staring mouth open and empty headed. A full drink was hanging precariously from his fingers. I instinctively reached for it, grabbed and downed it. Oh my God, brandy and coke!