Three nights ago I had a vivid dream. I’m glad that I’m writing about it after some time has passed. I get to fill in around the little pieces I remember, which I think makes the story better.

In the dream I went to the movies. Then I was inside the movie. It was a movie about a teenage girl, maybe 15 years old, a high school sophomore. The movie jumped back and forth from the real world, and this dark and cavernous underworld. In the underworld there were long and twisty hallways, large open courtyards, and small rooms behind locked doors. Whenever the girl was in this underworld there was a constant sense that something was following her, watching her, always about to catch her and destroy her. The opening scene is her running through these caverns. Looking over her shoulder. Ducking into hallways. Running. Running.

We see our girl at school, going to class, going to lunch, eating alone at a table by herself. She’s white, dark hair, innocently beautiful. Her school is full of other white kids. There really isn’t anything too different about her as to her appearance from the other kids. But there she is, all alone, eating a bologna and mayo sandwich with a Capri Sun that her mom packed for her. As her eyes scan the lunchroom she stops on an older girl, maybe a Junior, 16 or so. The camera angles, music, lighting, everything is portraying that she is in love with this girl. The older girl notices her staring, and she gives a quick smile and wave, but the young girl quickly looks down at her sandwich. Her fingers have made imprints in the soft wonder bread. Suddenly the older girl is at her side.

“Hey. I’m glad we hung out yesterday.” No real answer. “I uh… I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No. no.” Our girl finally answers. “I’m glad we hung out. I’ve, I’ve uh. I’ve been wanting to hang out with you for like, forever.” she says with an awkward laugh.

“Me too. I haven’t told anyone. Not that I’m embarrassed, but, you know, I don’t know. You know what I mean?”

“I get it. I haven’t either.” Our girl says. At this point the older girl sits down.

“Are you OK? You seem like, weirded out or something. Did we go too far?”

“No, no no. Not at all. I guess I’m just feeling like, I don’t know. This is just all new to me. You know?” She says with her eyes fixed on her sandwich.

“I get it” the older girl says as she reaches out to touch her hand. It lingers for a brief moment and then they both pull their hands into their laps and nervously look around.

There’s a boy in a football jersey making out with his girlfriend at the next table over, while other kids joke and laugh and throw wadded up napkins at each other.

“Well. Can we hang out again soon? A few of us are going to go see the new Star Wars this weekend. Want to come?”

“I’ll see if I can. yeah, that sounds cool.” Our girl says and smiles.

“Cool. And hey,” The older girl says as she gets up, places a hand on the younger girls shoulder and whispers in her ear,”I think you’re cute.” She walks off to meet up with other friends as our girl blushes and smiles.

Our girl looks over again at the couple making out, gets up, and runs to the bathroom.

As our girl runs and runs through the darkness of the underworld, she comes to a large staircase. Imagine a large open staircase like what you’d see in the foyer of an Opera hall, except this one was in a gloomy expanse. The carpet is a deep red, black marble forming the railing which is lit by candles. Yellow wax drips down the cold black marble. As she races down the stairs three girls, about her age, with white masks on like the ones in Kubo and the Two Strings appear at the top of the staircase. Behind the masks we hear them joke, “Hey Lesbo!” As they float down the steps to give chase.

Our girl flees down the steps and through dark hallways as the masked, floating schoolgirls pursue with raucous jeers,

“Come here Lesbo! We don’t want to kiss you or anything. Don’t be afraid! We don’t want to hurt you!” It’s obvious that they’re dangerous, despite what they say.

Back in the real world our girl is at her home. Her father is in a white shirt and tie, running off to a church meeting just as dinner is finishing up. She hasn’t touched her dinner, and only her mother seems to notice.

“You doing alright honey?” She asks.

Our girl shrugs and says,

“I’m fine. Just worried about my biology test next Monday.”

Her mom replies,

“I’m sure you’ll do great. Why don’t we do something fun on Monday for family night? That way you’ll have something to look forward to after the test?”

“Ok.” She says with a halfhearted smile.

“Honey?” the mom says to dad, “What time are you getting back?”

“Not sure. I think his last meeting is at 8:30, but you never know how long they’re going to take. Some people talk and talk and talk, you know?”

Their conversation trails off as the camera focuses in on our girl, her face. The music, lighting, and camera angles all build an emotion of distress. She forks her dinner, with her head resting on her other hand, as the conversation and commotion of family life blurs into the background.

Snap to the underworld where our girl is on the run. She sprints down a dark hallway filled with sinister laughter. She bursts around a corner and into a large auditorium. At the bottom of the auditorium is a lit chair, a large desk, and a large leather chair behind the desk. The laughter stops as she takes a careful step down the auditorium toward the chairs and desk. After a couple of nervous steps she hears a door open behind her. She quickly turns expecting horror, only to see the older girl from school entering the room. The older girl says,

“Hey”

She smiles, and slowly walks toward our girl. They step toward each other until they’re standing toe to toe. There’s no music, no sound. They’re both lit in such a way that you can only focus on them. They look into each others eyes, and the older girl runs her hand along the younger girls arm, bringing her in for a gentle hug. The young girl completely gives way and rests her head on the chest of the older girl, her dark hair pressed against her cheeks as the older girl gently strokes her hair. We see her head rise and fall with the breathing of the older girl. The older girl brings her head into her hands, and they stare at each other for a moment. They kiss. Briefly. An innocent kiss. As she opens her eyes and looks back up to the older girl, she realizes that she’s been replaced by one of the masked girls, who shouts, “LESBO!” and pushes her down the auditorium stairs.

Our girl snaps awake in her bed in her room at home. The house is in commotion.

“Honey!” Her mom calls from downstairs, “We’re going to be late!”

She sits up in bed and looks out the window. It’s a bright, sunny morning. We cut through shots of her putting on a skirt and a cap sleeve t-shirt, putting her hair in a braid, slipping on ballet flats, hopping into the car with her brothers and sisters, looking out the window, and arriving at church. She sits in the pew, not paying attention until she hears the man at the podium say,

“As a reminder we’ve got our youth temple trip next Tuesday to do baptisms for the dead. The bishop will be meeting with all the youth during 2nd and 3rd hour to conduct worthiness interviews and issue recommends on an individual basis. We also need a couple of priesthood brethren to volunteer to come with and provide…”

His voice trails off as the camera zooms in on our girls face. The camera slowly spins around, flipping her upside down, back upright, upside down again. Slowly it pans out and she floats above the pew, her skirt flowing below her. Her arms at her side. She floats there as the church congregation fades to black. She slowly lowers until she’s set gently down in that chair in the auditorium in the underworld. The camera is still completely fixed on her and her frozen look of horror. Her white face, starkly laid against the darkness. Her youth and awkward beauty are full-on and center.

Suddenly we hear a mans voice. “Jamie?”

She blinks. The camera does not move from her face.

“How are you doing today, Jamie?” He says again.

“Fine” She whispers as a tear drops down her cheek.

She looks down at her arms and she notices that she’s strapped into the chair. The camera zooms out laterally and it’s just her, strapped to the chair, the large desk, and a middle aged man in the large leather chair across from her. He’s slightly overweight, balding, with a skinny maroon silk tie, and a gentle face. The music is ominous. The cinematography is built to help you notice the imbalance of power. You’re supposed to feel a sense of danger about this situation. You wonder if this girl is going to be taken advantage of. It doesn’t seem like that’s what’s going to happen, but you’re not sure.

“We’re here to conduct a worthiness interview for you to enter the temple. It’s fairly simple. I have a set of questions here that I’m required to ask by the brethren. You just answer truthfully and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them at any time. Does that sound ok?”

We snap back to reality. She’s sitting in that same chair, not strapped down, across from that same desk, with that same man, but this time in his modest church office instead of the dark and gloomy underworld auditorium.

“That’s fine.” She mumbles.

“Alright, let’s get started. Do you have faith in and a testimony of God the Eternal Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost?”

“Yes” she says as we slowly descend back into the underworld with each subsequent ‘Yes’.

“Do you have a testimony of the Atonement of Christ and of His role as Savior and Redeemer?”

“Yes.” Lower.

“Do you have a testimony of the restoration of the gospel in these the latter days?”

“Yes.” Lower. A tear begins to form and she begins to quietly shake.

“Do you sustain the President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as the Prophet, Seer, and Revelator and as the only person on the earth who possesses and is authorized to exercise all priesthood keys?”

“Yes.” Lower.

” Do you sustain members of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as prophets, seers, and revelators?”

“Yes.” Lower.

“Do you sustain the other General Authorities and local authorities of the Church?”

“Yes.” lower.

The camera then focuses in on her face, and we hear the Bishop ask the next question off of his list:

“Do you live the law of Chastity?” The straps tighten around her arms.

“I… I uh… I…”

“Jamie. It’s ok. You can tell me. I’m here to help you repent. It’s probably not as serious as you’re imagining anyway.” The music gets more distressing.

“I… I uh… I…”

“Jamie, I can’t help you repent if you don’t tell me what’s going on. I’m not here to judge, I’m just here as a servant of the Lord.”

“I… I uh… I kissed a girl at school.” Any light that showed the surrounding auditorium is now gone. The only thing we can see is the girl, the desk, and the bishop. He looks sternly at her in silence.

“OK. Was it like a joke? Were you playing a game of some kind? Because that could make a difference if..”

“No. I kissed her because we like each other” She says, cutting him off, but still looking down into her lap.

“Ok. I just want you to know, that I’m not mad at you. Someday, in the next life, you won’t have these tendencies anymore. God has been very clear since the beginning that homosexual behavior is a very, very grievous sin. But there’s hope. You won’t have to struggle with this forever, eventually you won’t be this way. I just need to ask you a few more questions, so I can understand the level of repentance and potential discipline needed.”

She looks up when he says the word ‘discipline’. The music begins to get more desparate.

“Have you ever… touched yourself, in an inappropriate way?” He leans forward in his chair, resting his folded hands on the desk.

“What do you mean?” She asks

“Have you ever touched yourself in an inappropriate way? Have you ever masturbated?”

Silence. She fidgets in her chair, trying to free herself from the straps holding down her arms.

“What else happened? Did you do anything else besides kiss?”

“We… we uh… I don’t want to talk about this.” The scoring, lighting, camera shots, all combine to give a real air of distress.

“If you want to be forgiven of your sins. You have to tell me. This is very serious, Jamie. Homosexual behavior is a sin next to murder. If you had murdered someone, that’s the only thing that could be worse. You don’t want a sin next to murder on your conscience forever, do you? If you ever want to be clean, you have to tell me everything. Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

“She uh… we uh… we touched each other..” She stammers this 50 year old man, alone in a room.

He gets out of his chair. He walks slowly, the camera following his hand as he traces the edge of the desk with his fingertips as he walks to the other side. Disharmonious strings play in the background. He sits on the edge of the desk directly in front of her. His crotch is at about eye level, a foot or so away. The camera pulls out laterally. Our girl is on the left, the giant of a man directly in front of her on the right. This shot holds for a moment to let their difference in size and power sink in. He begins to ask more questions in a soft and gentle tone.

“Was there insertion? Do you fantasize about her? Do you think about her when you masturbate? When do you masturbate? Do you use any objects to help you masturbate? Do you look at pornography? How long have you been with this girl? Is this a one time thing or have you two been sexual with each other multiple times? Is she a member of the church, also? If so, I’ll need to contact her Bishop.” On and on he goes as she sinks into her chair. The camera zooms in on her face as tears fall down. The masked girls enter the room and get up in her face and surround her, swarming.

“Lesbo! Lesbo! What’s wrong Lesbo? What’s wrong? You’re a sinner, Lesbian, sinner. Why can’t you just keep to yourself? Just keep it to yourself, Lesbo.”

The terror becomes more and more intense as one of the masked girls pulls out a razor blade and holds it to her wrists. “Let’s get you out of these straps, Lesbo. Let’s put you out of your misery. God doesn’t want you to be this way. You won’t be a Lesbian anymore after you die. Your family will be so ashamed. They’ll never love you. Why don’t you just go away, Lesbo. Get out of here and DON’T COME BACK!” One of them says with a shriek.

We snap into the real world and our girl is alone on the bathroom floor of her house. Sobbing. The camera is directly above her, showing the entire bathroom. Her tiny body curled up, all alone on the floor. She’s in her skirt and cap sleeve t-shirt in a heap on the floor with a razor blade in her hand. She sits up and whispers to herself “I don’t want to be gay anymore”, and a shaky hand pulls the razor to her skin as her mother opens the door.

“Jamie! Oh my goodness!” Her mother rushes to her side and scoops her up in her arms and rocks her back and forth on the floor. Our girl is sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m a murderer, mom! I’m a murderer! There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here. I’ll never be whole until I die. I just want to die. I just want to die. I just want to die.”

Her mom holds her and rocks her and rocks her and rocks her and rocks her and rocks her and rocks her and rocks her.

“I just want to die. I just want to die. I just want to die.” She sobs down to a whisper.

Together they rock, and rock, and rock. Everything fades to black except the two of them. All you can see is their embrace.

“I love you, Jamie.” Her mother says. “I love you, no matter what. You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to tell me anything. I will hold you forever. I will love you forever.”

The mother and daughter begin to float above the bathroom floor and out of the bathroom. They drift slightly apart until they hold hands at arms length, spinning in the air. Eventually they descend into her bedroom, sitting criss-cross on her bed. The sun is shining through the window. Her skirt in a heap on the floor. She’s wearing sweats and holding hands with her mom.

“I kissed a girl, mom. I did more than that, too. The bishop made me tell him everything today. He asked me if I touched myself, how often, when, how. He asked if me and this girl had any ‘insertion’ or whatever that means. I didn’t know what to do so I just told him everything. He just kept asking and asking. He said he needed to know everything to help me repent. He said that if I repent and don’t do anything like this ever again, in the next life I wouldn’t have these feelings. He said if I repented and made it to heaven I wouldn’t be gay anymore.”

Her mother sits there in silence. She shifs herself closer to her daughter. She touches her cheek and wipes away a tear, holding her cheek in her hand.

“So, you’re gay?” Her mother whispers.

Our girl only nods. They sit in silence for another moment.

“What’s her name?” Her mother asks.

Our girl looks up at her mother, whose face is tough to interpret.

“Kendra.” Our girl says wiping away her own tears with her wrist. Her mother holding her gaze with her daughter. She takes her hand off of her cheek and holds her hand again.

“Is she kind to you? Does she like you, too?”

“I mean.. Yeah. We really like each other. She’s a little older than me. She’s a junior.”

“She respects you? You feel safe around her?”

“I mean…. .. yeah.” Our girl is confused.

“Is she your first kiss?”

She blushes. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back.” Her mom says.

Her mom leaves the room. Just as she does the room starts to go dark. The girls with the masks slowly begin to creep up behind our girl. She’s completely unaware of their presence. They hiss, drawing closer and closer to her. Just as they’re about to grab her by the hair with their white, stringy hands, and drag her to the underworld, her mother returns and they shriek and disappear. Her mother enters the room with a mauve bucket, filled with cotton balls, a file, nail polish – a pedicure kit. She sits down with her on the bed.

“Tell me, everything. My little girl just had her first kiss, and I want to know all about it.”