The Second Side

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When you stop believing in coincidence, paranoia is only a heartbeat away.

Friday, June 01, 2007

A Dream I Had

I'm in the small town I grew up in. I leave a grocery store carrying two plastic bags of stuff. I walk over to the street I live on.

As I pass a house where a friend of mine lives, someone opens fire with an AK-47. I'm hit. Three in the neck, two in the back, two in the ass. I've never been shot, but in the dream, it feels like hammer blows, with acid poured into the holes.

I make it to a house and try to take shelter. A man runs by and says "I'll get him." That makes me feel safe, so I stagger back to the store and crash through the doors.

"I've been shot," I cry out. People scramble. What a mess I'm making. A middle-aged man in a fedora and raincoat runs into the store and comes over to help me. He helps me to my feet.

Instead of the hospital, he takes me to a small theater. A performance of some kind takes place on stage. As I scan the crowd, I notice something odd: every seat is occupied by somebody I know or have known—friends, lost friends, family, dead friends and family, ex-girlfriends, you name it. People I havent' seen in years walk by as if I'm not there. Nobody recognizes me or says hello or inquires as to what I'm doing at this reunion with seven bullet holes in my body and blood spreading out underneath my chair.

I turn to my Good Samaritan and ask if we hadn't ought to get my perforated ass to the hospital.

"No," he says.

"But, aren't I bleeding internally?" I ask.

"I doubt it."

I accept his answer, even though there's no way he can be sure. A few minutes later, I insist on going to the hospital anyway. He drives us. On the way, he speaks again:

"We really don't need to go to the hospital."

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't think you're going to make it."

At that, I lose my temper, screaming at him for wasting time taking me to a play and saying I wasn't bleeding internally. What a dumbshit. Then, I calm down. We're at the hospital. I stumble out of the car and run through the hospital.

"Where's my family?" I ask, searching for my wife and two daughters. "Where are they?"

I keep searching until everything goes dark.

I never found them.

4 Comments:

Blogger Fletcher said...

Death is never as scary as when we have decided to fight for life.

You are fighting.

I grok your fear.

You are stronger than that fear.

I wish that my courage was a match for that.

I tip my fedora to you, friend.

&

12:36 AM  
Blogger Defiantly Damned said...

Wow, Jimmy, that's a very profound dream. I can see lots of meaning in it... perhaps some interpretations might be correct, perhaps some definitely wrong. But, something to think about nonetheless...

I think it's interesting that you found yourself in a theater, a field of work and creativity that you're focused on. Everyone you know surrounds you, yet they no longer recognize you or know you. Later, you describe your time in the theater as a waste of time. Also interesting.

What if the middle-aged man in the fedora was an older version of you? Current Jimmy wants to be safe... he returned to his hometown where he grew up, walks by a friend's house, expresses feeling safe, wants to go to the hospital, looks for his family, etc. Older Jimmy is concerned about you and helps you to your feet. But, he wants to go to the theater and forget about the hospital. Through all the chaos, older Jimmy seems pretty calm and collected, not panicked whatsoever about the drama that rages on. I wonder if the current Jimmy might actually represent your "inner child" who is scared and seeking safety and security while the older Jimmy might represent you today? Does that make any sense at all?

There's a sense of loss, regret, hopes unrealized, and sadness. Your older friend tells you that you're not going to make it... could that be an expression of self-doubt? Is there a concern that your family doesn't support you? Is there a fear that your family won't be there when you succeed? Could that be why you can't find them?

Keep in mind, I have no idea what I'm talking about and am strictly pulling shit out of my ass. :)

2:42 PM  
Blogger Fletcher said...

Well, DD has a better interpretation.

But I charge $9.95 for dream analysis and $14.95 for a natal horoscope.

Not really, I'm just jealous.

&

9:48 PM  
Blogger Jimmy said...

Fletcher: Don't sell yourself short, my friend. It was an insightful interpretation. You're correct in that I fought for life. That sort of determination is a new thing for me in my dream life. What's a natal horoscope?

DD: Wow. You did some impressive work here. I sense considerable background knowledge here. I think your evaluation makes perfect sense. A conflict between my older and younger natures, trying to establish dominance or maybe even reconcile. Much food for thought, thanks.

9:53 AM  

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