I remember a dream I had as a child living in Mississippi. It was probably a year or two after my parents and grandparents cut down a lot of the trees on our property. My grandfather had it in his head that he was going to urbanize the swamp we were living in and make it like New Orleans. As an adult I can't blame him for this as misguided as it was, but as a child I was terribly upset because I used to play in the woods that were cut down and sold for lumber. Tall grass and weeds grew up in their place. This was a very warm subtropical humid climate so 6 feet tall underbrush grew up in a matter of a year over several acres of property.
In this dream I had, I was playing under my parents house. Our house was one of those Gulf South stilted houses where it was raised a story off the ground on wooden pilings for floods. I looked up and surrounding me in the acres of underbrush were lots of people. Maybe these people were Native Americans, or the trees we cut down, or the ghosts of dead slaves, or the local country folk of the area who we didn't exactly fit in with, maybe they were all of these and more. Their faces were blank. I don't know if they were simply expressionless or if they had no faces. They were all staring at me. Then they all suddenly rushed at me in unison. I don't mean they ran or walked swiftly at me. They all suddenly moved at me. I ran out from under the house and up the deck stairs. I remember thinking that if only I could make it inside I would be safe. But deep down I knew this wasn't true.