Wow, what a freaky dream. Bodered on a nightmare actually. I was back in my old house, about fifteen years ago. An eight year old kid, i step outside the gate one particularly overcast day. I can't stress enough on the nostalgia that overcast days carry. As I step out, I'm suddenly accosted from my left by about five tall nuns in electric blue habits. Some were muzzled so you could barely make out their faces. One was exceptionally ugly with jaws that protruded in front of her face. They approached me briskly and purposefully and forced me inside, into the compound.
At the back of my mind I knew it was for something I'd committed. They made me lift up a submissive palm. One of them wiped a tear from her eye and rubbed it on my palm. Another did the same with a little saliva. Note that it being a dream, the idea of getting squeamish didn't occur to me. A third opened a lilttle vial and poured out a rather viscous, clear liquid into my cupped palms. As the liquid began overflowing, I heard the others say things in almost a chant. One statement I remember in particular was "He does'nt believe in the son."
I'm glad I woke up just then.