Wicked crazy dream last night. It’s possible I am being influenced by the television. I’m terrified to turn it off and hear scratching in the walls at night. Maybe there is none to be heard. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Still, I’m not ready to go into the silence. Anyway, the crazy dream!
I dreamed I got a new job as a private security guard. I had to work for an ex-boyfriend/dealer and his new wife and kid. There was a security shack in the yard and I went there to relieve the day guy (I was supposed to do nights). The guy was one of my cousins, which was kind of weird, and he didn’t seem at all competent in this job as he showed me around the house and gave me the details of the nightly routine. Across the road from the house there was a lane with an old orange school bus parked in it. One of the jobs as security was to drive the bus back over the hill once an hour to check on the crops and make sure nobody was in there stealing anything. This panicked me a bit, I hadn’t realized I’d have to drive a bus and I’d never driven one before so I was a little freaked out.
While my cousin was showing me around telling me what to do, the family started to settle into their house for the evening. We were to lock them in and set the perimeter alarm. Just as we were getting ready to do that, we were attacked by a rival drug dealer and his thugs (all people I knew, in that way that everyone in a small town knows each other). I got shot with an electric stun gun. It was still daylight, a mid-summer evening, anyone driving past could clearly see what was happening. These thugs also had a bus, one of those old buses that you see in movies and on tv. The kind you’d see on a show like MASH, transporting a bunch of the locals to another village. All the doors on the bus flung open and a half dozen guys overwhelmed the house, holding the man at gunpoint and making him show them where everything was stashed. He was blubbering, convinced we’d all be shot as soon as the bus was loaded. They emptied the house and piled the inside of the bus to the ceiling in no time. As they climbed into the bus, hanging out the doors and windows, and started to pull out, the guy went crazy, running after them holding a huge brown wooden cross, pleading for God to help, crying that he was ruined. I couldn’t believe it, seemed like the stupidest thing to do, he’d get himself shot. And I wondered if that was the plan, if he was truly ruined maybe he was suicidal.
As the bus lumbered slowly down the road with him running after screaming and waving the cross, all of a sudden a line of people danced onto the road in front of them blocking their path. I say a line because that’s what it was, all these men, different ages, different sizes, holding clubs and bats and machetes and axes, shoulder to shoulder like the girls in a chorus line. They moved as a unit and they literally danced out onto the road. Not with high kicks like the chorus girls, but more like a boy band or country line dancers or the dancers from a Michael Jackson video. A line came from the right side of the road and then one came in behind them from the left and behind them from the right until soon there were thousands of armed men on the road dancing toward the drug thieves’ bus. They didn’t stop dancing as they advanced. It was like some sort of macabre musical.
I woke up before they got to the bus. Weird dream.
Drinking: coffee with a generous helping of cream
Hair: like a man’s receding hairline (because i had a headband on to keep the hair out of my eyes while doing physical activity yesterday, but since my hair was wet, it dried like that, and stayed that way even after the headband was removed)