I'm not a violent person. In fact, I'm a pacifist in ideology and in temperament. But for a while now I've been having particularly violent dreams. I don't know what's causing them, possibly stress from work. Or maybe my two years of dabbling in medical malpractice etched some deep morbidity into my sub-conscious and I'll never be the same again. Who knows. I don't entirely mind them, because it's nice to wake up from bad dreams and experience that feeling of relief as you realize that it isn't real.
Last night I had a whopper of a nightmare. I dreamt that I was walking down a dark alley in some city. There were two kids walking behind me. Although they were just talking to each other and joking around, it suddenly occurred to me they were going to mug me. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gun pointed at my head. Before I could say anything I heard the gun go off and I felt the bullet go through my brain. My body went limp and I dropped to the ground. Everything started fading to black and I knew I was going to die right there. I couldn't move and my only thought was how terribly sad it was going to be when Priya found out. She wouldn't understand how I could be shot dead on the street for no reason. After a few seconds, was dead. I looked down on myself as I started to float away.
Then I woke up. My heart was pounding and I was breathing hard.
I lied there for a couple seconds and then rolled over and kissed Priya and Maddie who were both lying next to me. Priya didn't really wake up but she rolled over and put her arm across my shoulder.
When I was thinking about the dream today it occurred to me that I actually was mugged once, or almost mugged really, by two kids in a dark alley. It happened in New Orleans, only two or three days before I moved to LA for law school. I was walking around the French Quarter at about 3 am on a Wednesday night. I had been out late with some friends and was trying to remember where I had parked my car. At some point I realized that two guys were following me. One was just a kid. The other was older and looked like a criminal. He had a full grill and short dread locks. He looked pissed off. At some point the older guy told me to hold up. Although my gut told me to just start sprinting away, I reluctantly stopped. The guy asked me for change for a bus fair. I told him I didn't have any change and kept walking. I turned a few corners and walked couple blocks away, but they cut me off at one intersection. I started walking up another street and maybe got ten yards away when I heard one of them running up behind me. I turned around just as the older guy was taking a wild swing at my head. The punch just glanced off my face and knocked my glasses onto my head. I thought the glasses had landed somewhere on the street and I didn't realize they had stayed on my head until the episode was over.
I had managed to push the guy past me in the direction that his wild swing was taking him. But then he got back in my face and started yelling, "So you ain't got no change huh, bitch?" or something like that. I put my fists up -- seriously, I did -- and said, "I don't have anything for you." The younger kid watched us from about ten feet away. He looked nervous and I felt like he wasn't going to bother me. But the other guy was threatening me, staying now a few feet away.
My friends had told me stories about having guns pulled on them in the French Quarter. It had literally happened to two or three of my co-workers, all late a night when no one else was around. No one else was on our street. So I was expecting the guy to pull a gun out at any moment. In fact, I was sure it was going to happen. I was just waiting for him to pull it out and I was going to give him my money. (Yes, I realize how gay that sounds.)
But he didn't pull out a gun. In fact, after a couple seconds of him staring me down, I just turned around and walked away. I had no idea if the guy was going to follow me, but he just walked away too. I never saw either of them again.
I was told later that the tactic is to surprise people with a punch and knock them to the ground. But muggers don't want to risk fighting someone straight up without an advantage. Apparently the guy was trying to stun me and then they were going to pile it on.
After I got a couple blocks away from the guys I realized that I still had to find my car. With no police officers in sight, I went back to where I thought my car was parked, peering around corners before starting off in a direction. Eventually I found it, locked the doors and went home. The next day I had nothing to show for the incident except a slightly red cheek. I wasn't sure if I should even tell people about it. I told my boss and I think he thought I was making it up. Oh well.
It's been a while since I've thought about that night in New Orleans. My dream last night rekindled the same feelings I had had that evening. Mostly, the feeling that I was going to die alone on an unfamiliar street because of someone's random act of violence. It's a terrible feeling for sure.
Anyway, the point is that I hope I'm always lucky enough to be able to wake up from such violence and enjoy the love and comfort that only a half-asleep wife can provide.
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6 comments:
PW, I do not envy your tormented psyche, but I can relate. I've had a shit-ton of "drunk dreams" since I got sober- this is apparently quite normal. At first it really terrified me and pissed me off. I can still remember the first one I had at 7 days sober and I was sick to my stomach all day, it was horrible. Now, however, I have the same reaction you do. I just wake up and am grateful that it was all a dream and I don't have to worry about that type of life anymore. A couple times I've even been able to wake myself up. I just say to myself (in the dream) "wait a minute, this is ridiculous, I wouldn't be drinking. This must be a dream!", and then I wake up.
Also, maybe you have PTSD as a result of your mugging. Or as a result of John giving you the gas-pedal as a small boy. You should see a counselor
Damn Peter, that's kind of a drag, but I've had similar experiences. There is nothing quite like that realization that whatever the horrible thing that was going on in your nightmare is not real. I've never experienced the pleasure of a half asleep spouse. Primarily, because if I'm sleeping with someone. I wake them up and tell them what a totally screwed up dream I was having. Perhaps that is one reason, among them many that I have not been able to trick some unsuspecting woman into marrying me.
In short, I hope no one kills you. I'm sure they won't. Didn't you tell me you drive a Toyota Echo. No one is going to try to rob you. You already look like you don't have enough money for gas. I hope they wouldn't just shoot you for the fun of it. First 'cause that's just sick, and second because that would be like shooting a giraffe or, or ... well I can't think of another animal that it makes no sense to kill. I mean who eat's giraffes. Third, Priya would be really bumbed until she read your blog and determined that you had been developing a patient well thought out strategy for disappering from society. You're kind of telegraphing your moves man. Have you acquired a skull with matching dental records yet?
I'm not really sure why, but whenever I know you will read someting I write, I have this uncontrolable urge to make it wierd. It's not even conscious. I seriously hope you have more restfull and uneventfull sleep. Take up surfing, then you get to have drowning dreams. They are pretty freaky at first. Then you realize that it's just your wife with the pillow on your face.
Thanks Marcus. I actually drive a Toyota Prius now. So I'm hoping any car jackers out there will appreciate my environmental conscientiousness and decide not to hold me at gun point and/or kill me.
I'm glad I bring out the weirdness in you. I'd like to be known as someone who brings out the weirdness in things. In fact, I'm leaving you in charge of ensuring that my gravestone says, "Peter Howell, he brought out the weirdness in things."
Ahh the Prius. I hate to inform you that the waiting list for a Prius is growing to epic proportions in some parts of the country. I'm not sure that it is an effective theft deterent. I'm quite positive that I've never encountered an environmentally conscious car-jacking thug. However, my experience with them is admitedly low.
I will gladly shoulder the responsibility of emblazoning your tombstone with your requested phrase. I will say though, that you may need a back-up plan. I just get the sense I will go before you. I'm not sure why I feel that way, but I do. Besides, you live in L.A. By the time I'm old enough to die. You'll still look like your thirty. Don't they perform plastic surgery procedures out there at 7-11 or something?
Looking forward to Christmas, try to avoid any mishaps until then.
Disclaimer: the following comment may be perceived by some as depressing and dramatic.
I just had to write because my recent dream experiences have been just so precisely, exactly, polarly opposite from the one you describe here, Pedro. I dream that Scott is alive and the relief you felt when you woke up washes over me only when I'm asleep. I look at him and wonder, what were we so upset about? I can feel his warm skin, the flesh underneath, and bones under that, mapped out just like they were in life so clearly it's scary. Usually the realization that he is gone begins to dawn in the dream. When I wake, I am alone.
I genuinely hope that you are always lucky enough to wake from such violence to enjoy your wife. One thing I do not regret is that Scott and I always knew how lucky we were to have each other - well maybe not always but for years anyway :) - in the midst of an undeniably cruel and unpredictable world. So if you have that understanding too, you and your woman are living right.
Thanks, Terri. My heart goes out to you. I can't imagine what losing Scott has been like. I just know what an amazing and talented person he was, and what an absolutely sweet person you are. I know it must sound trite but I hope you are holding up well. You are in my thoughts all the time.
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