Sunday, April 1, 2007


This morning I woke up from a dream. I was texting my friend the word, "gun?!" hoping that there might be one to kill the person next door.

His victims were the people inside the home whom he had their appendages surgically removed. Earlier, I was rallying help from the onlookers because I was attempting to kill him with a garden hoe. The demon responded by blowing up a gas main in the back of the house to aggravate the situation. Everyone else had fled after the explosion; I took refuge next door.

In the dream, I clung to the idea that it was my roll to kill this "person." He was a man for sure, but demons can take other forms. As if it were a video game, I was frantically pressing the buttons on my phone trying to find the solution to get through this stage of the fight.

I remember the victims eyes said more terror then their mouths ever could. I remember the uselessness of words after locking eyes with him. I felt born into this moment for this reason.

My flight or fight response wasn't preventing me from feeling absolutely terrified in that moment; Hell, I hadn't even seen the damage the explosion had cause to the house yet. It just prevented me from running from the situation. I woke up right before my text message for a gun could be responded to.

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