Thyestean Buffet

 

November 15th, 2021; 2 am-2:45 am

I was in the midst of a discussion with my brother; he wanted to do some photography and drove us over to a nearby field.  As we parked by the field we ran into our mom, dad, sister, older sister, and nephew. Such an incident was due to a prior arrangement that had now taken precedent over our current plans. 

Upon entering the building, which was very dark, it became suddenly apparent that my nephew was gone, and by looking for him, we found something else. As we searched the building, we came across a room with a sickly-looking older woman sitting up in a gurney, half surrounded by a blue curtain that appeared almost black because the lights were off. Using a flashlight on my phone to examine the room, I couldn't help but notice what looked like a mess of some kind on the floor to the right of the woman's bed. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be blood; in the center of the mess was a skull and a few bones that had been picked clean. The blood was still fresh; this happened recently. All the while, the woman sat motionless in her bed as if asleep.

The blood was fresh, but there was no way that what my heart and mind were saying could be anything that I'd be willing to accept. As we searched for my nephew, we came across a much bigger curtain, kind of like something you'd see on a stage. After passing through the curtain, we found ourselves in a busy restaurant, the one we had initially planned to have our lunch. It was an all-you-can-eat kind of place, but it didn't look like a buffet; it also had a rustic feel mixed with something modern. In this way, the sleek tables and furniture contrasted the old hardwood floors. The menu also seemed to contrast with the patrons, burgers, and pizza for men and women in suits, buffet-style no less. It seems too heavy a meal for lunch and quite messy for the well-dressed patrons. 

At the front of the store was a small podium; it was here that greeters spoke to guests before finding a table. The space was bright with a cozy feel, lit by three large windows and glass double doors to fully take advantage of the sun's natural light. To the left of that podium, the owners sat behind a small wall, greeting guests at their approach. It had to be of mid-height, barely high enough to hide some buckets set around them. The buckets were quite big and full of strange-looking dark-colored meat. The owners were an elderly couple, a white-haired gentleman and his wife, both of European descent. The two of them sat towards the front of the restaurant to greet customers.

"Here, a contradiction occurs. Despite just arriving at the restaurant, the dream tells me that we have already eaten some food, keep this in mind as you read below."

As staff and the elderly couple greeted us, I couldn't help but notice something strange. As I approached the podium, I saw a label on one of the buckets of meat by the owners' feet, a white piece of tape with the word "human" written on it. Seeing the owners begin to suspect that I might have noticed it, I made sure to mask my concern, only giving the bucket a passing glance as they watched me. When I approached the podium, they both began to talk to me and ask what I liked. I gushed, lying for the sake of my life, telling them enthusiastically how much I liked the burger I had and the six slices of pizza I had eaten. In my head, I thought this, "I liked the pizza because it was cheese only." The owners seemed pleased by such high praise and began to insist that I go ahead and eat more food. A terrifying thought immediately passed through my mind, "something other than what was in that bucket must have been added to the food, and I likely hadn't had enough for it to take effect. They were fattening us up for slaughter." As I walked away from them, I began to understand this building's layout. We started in the back and made our way to the front. The windows and glass doors reminded us of the outside world, but they probably won't let us leave. I didn't know if my family had noticed the bucket like I did, which caused me to feel horrifyingly alone in understanding our situation. I could feel the grease on my fingers from what I had already eaten; the thought disturbs me in the waking world, but how could I convey the truth of what was going on when the owners were so close?

We sat at a table by the podium, closest to the front doors; once we were all seated, a silent understanding passed between us; thankfully, they were also aware of the situation. On the other hand, my brother didn't seem to notice and continued to grab plates of food. While standing, he suddenly went and began to speak with the owners, I came and stood near him, trying to catch his eyes while avoiding suspicion, but I doubt that I was successful. After my brother had finally turned away from them, he headed off to the bathroom to wash the grease from his fingers, and I followed to do the same. The couple watched us suspiciously as we walked away, but because we are twins, going to the bathroom together is not weird, regardless of its size. Once behind the safety of closed doors, I told him everything, and thankfully he already knew what was going on.

Now that I knew my family was aware of what was happening, what could we do? Should we continue to play dumb, or should we confront them? The safest bet seemed to be deception. However, as we stepped out of the bathroom, we found ourselves face-to-face with the restaurant owner and his wife; the pair almost seemed genuinely happy to see us. The plan, though barely put together, fell apart under that gaze, that benign malice. Here they stand, smiling at me to my face and poisoning me behind my back; how dare they greet me with such dishonesty. Their facade pissed me off.

I can't exactly remember what I said to them, but it was something akin to this, "You monsters, how dare you, I know that you're using people as meat here. How could you do this?" The smile plastered on their face never faded, not even under the weight of my accusations, but it seemed to grow much more wicked alongside my indignation, seemingly spurred on by my disgust.

How poetic, the restaurant reminds me of the word decadence. Decadence speaks to a kind of moral decay that occurs through overindulgence in luxuries and pleasure. How fitting that the place was a buffet, the image of overconsumption, and through indulgence we die, providing seats for new customers and a meal they won't live long enough to forget.