I awoke in the dead of night from a terrible dream to avoid dying in it. Now despite any interpretation of signs taken directly from the Hollywood terror theater playbook, I have died before in my dreams. And though I was fearful indeed within this nocturnal fantasy I didn’t want to give any satisfaction to the party real or imagined who put this tiny little nightshade seed within my sleep. What I could recall were two beautiful young grown up children that I spoke with in a small shuttered gallery. A pair that was lovingly starting out on life’s adventure together whose love was so vibrant and overflowing that it warmed the empty loneliness within me. All seemed to be a episodic passing point within the continuation of my own journey until the youth announced that the police had buzzed non-stop at his apartment’s entryway for hours non-stop. He must have sensed that he was coming for he pulled up the scalloped barrier and took off running before even saying goodbye to his young wife to be.
I instantly had misgivings and went off deciding ambivalently if I was trying to escape back into anonymity or trying to call the man back. I found him a block down literally cut in half bleeding out on the sidewalk. Shocked and horrified, I resisted the temptation to run and knelt by him holding his pale hand for a moment as I shed some tears listening to him talk. I ran back toward the shop to find his girl, not sure if when I met her if I should prevent her from seeing him thus or take her to him for a last few seconds together. She was already running across the street through the crowd in the direction of the underground tram. I knew now that I was also marked as one of the three and my only option was to flee.
Down the street I walked with my heart racing as I eyed my immediate vicinity with hawk-like precision. A car just ahead threatening to jump the side walk, a turn, a group of people with a strange look, another turn away, and so forth. I ran into a dingy nondescript restaurant through the darkened corridors into the kitchen hoping to find a moment or two of peace but an older black female dishwasher turned to me and informed me that I had better run quick before the cooks got me because the would kill me and cut me up if they caught me. I saw them talking in a side room and beat a quick path away. The park was filled with people to a level of absurdity on a par with Seurat’s “le grande Jatte.”
I ran through people like an obstacle course avoiding any possible action that might vindicate a feint before a deadly strike. The swinging of a bat or some carelessness with a knife, all were caught by my widened vista and countered by more cautious maneuvering. It began to approach a level of absurdity of a Keystone Comedy silent film when I crossed a small land bridge supporting a small theater class, the instructor nearly deposing me to the water below with a handful of thrown sand. Instinctively I turned away just in time and hurtled through. The car careening down the concrete parkway exit ramp is where I sought exit from what I could sense would be a ridiculously deadly conclusion ala a David Cronenberg film. This is where I literally jumped out of the dream back into the relative discomfort of my cot.
And that would have been the end of it. A little nighttime paranoia. Wondering for a bit if the whole affair was an offshoot of a failing heart’s early morning mischief? Or wondering if I had finally set in motion some dark forces of a publicly invisible ruling elite at last in light of my many years persistently published cheek that was offered at their expense? It was then that I saw a young face of a man in a tired well-worn uniform smiling and with him a little scarf bound girl from somewhere half way around the world. And my fear instantly dropped away, ashamedly now realizing that there were so many more than myself that were at this same instant in much greater danger than I.