Context:
Don't have much as far as context for this one. I will say, that the viewpoint from which this dream is told is kinda hard to describe. It begins as more of a first person point of view, from the eyes of a visitor to the town, but shifts towards third person once the little boy is introduced in the dream.
The Dream:
The dream begins with a nondescript narrator giving a preface, of sorts, to a dusty southern town set in what felt like the 1940s; think houses with whitewashed, wood-panel exteriors, dirt streets and rocking chairs on front porches. The narrator proceeds to take the audience on a door to door tour of the community.
As the tour progresses, one thing sticks out as consistent with every household. Upon the mantel of each home's fireplace, displayed for all to see, is a collection of ornate and varied dolls. Though the size of each array varies from home to home, a common thread ties each display together. Most of the dolls are missing their legs. Soon after, through some form of narration, it is revealed that pairs of doll legs are very hard to come by, and thus, are greatly valued by the denizens. The legs act as a form of currency and the number of sets a person has determines their social status, in a way. Many people spend their lives scouring for these legs.
We then come upon a house that is inhabited by a young black child of about 8 or 9 years old. He, as most children, has fierce sense of adventure and play and feral light in his eyes. The boy has his own band of dolls as well. However, these dolls were anything but currency in his eyes. You see, under the boy's jurisdiction, the dolls were alive. He could speak to them and they listened. He played with them, not as objects for his manipulation, but as partners in his games; contemporaries. They would run in the streets, chasing a hoop with a stick. He would lay in the dirt, hands on chin, and teach them things; about life and about God.
Another peculiar thing about the boy's platoon was that most of his dolls had legs. Now, there was one doll in particular that was still missing them. He was a rather crotchety looking old man who seemed to always have a scowl adorning his features. He would often be found sitting off to the side as the others played, and though no less valued by the boy, there was a noticeable disconnect from the rest of his peers.
Then one day, the boy, alight with joy and face to face with the doll within the walls of their quaint little domicile, unfolds his hand to reveal a freshly acquired set of legs. Now, these legs are rather unexpected in appearance. They are large, metal, and look as though they belong to that of a mechanized suit of armor; rather unwieldy for doll modeled after a human. Regardless, the boy carefully outfits the old man with his brand new legs and he, after some effort, stands. Though they take some getting used to, the man is soon able to move about with only minor rigidity. They are now ready to show off the new additions to the rest of the dolls. However, the reveal is met with stifled laughter, pointing and whispers of how awkward the new legs look on the old man's body. The boy quickly and sharply rebukes the crowd and they repent.
The scene then jumps to the boy and his gang of dolls again playing in the dusty streets, this time with the old man as a full fledged participant. The boy then calls the group over to gather around a mud puddle. He then begins to build a city within the puddle. Streets and skyscrapers of mud soon appear as the boy lectures the dolls in his typical loving and zealous manner. The boy then swirls his index finger around in the mud, creating a little vortex that proceeds to spin about the mud city, consuming the newly formed buildings. As he does this, the boy utters the only words I can make out from his sermon: "You see, God is a hurricane."
