The Power of Dreams.

I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to get into a whole bunch of trouble that day. You know the kind of day where you had a dream during the night, and that dream sets your mood for the rest of the day? It was like that, except I couldn't remember the dream. Which made it worse, because it felt like if I could remember my dream, the bad stuff wasn't going to happen to me. But if I didn't remember, something bad would happen. And it would all be my fault. You know?

So I get up, and I'm tired, I mean like, really tired. And then I'm stuck in front of the mirror brushing my teeth, and I ended up just standing there with the toothbrush in my mouth for twenty full minutes. So I didn't have time to shower. It was like my mind hadn't even turned on yet, it was still just feeling the dream that I couldn't remember. And then like a crack of a whip, my mind realized I was now running too late to be able to shower.

It was when I was on the bus that I realized that I was going to get into trouble. That a bad thing was going to happen and it would be my fault. It was in my chest you know? Like, deep down in my chest, but it also felt like I could touch the feeling and make it tangible in my hands. But I couldn't make it tangible, and that made the feeling get worse somehow.

So then I go to work, and I keep on edge for my whole eight hours. I try my best not to let anything happen, I keep my conversations light and short with my co-workers. I dread every moment with my boss, but she seemed fine so no trouble was going to come from her or work. But I still couldn't ease up.

On the bus ride home, I knew I had to remember the dream soon, or it would all be over. I knew that. And yet...I couldn't remember it! I was flying into a panic, that's for sure. I don't mind saying, I was flying right into a panic.

I got home and took a shower, it felt great, I was totally relaxed. When I heard a noise outside my door. Like the front door slamming or something. But it was hard to be sure because I sing pretty loudly when I'm in the shower, so that mixed with the sound of the water rushing, it was too hard to tell. But it was a pretty distinct slam.

I was probably just being paranoid, that's what I figured. I was just being paranoid because of the bad feeling that I had had all day. That said though, I heard it again. Swear to God, heard it again! So I quickly hopped out of the shower and locked the door. The shower was still running, so I walked back to it and turned it off, and started to dry myself off. Feeling safe because of the locked door.

I live in a small bachelor pad, the main door opens and you can walk straight to the kitchen with my livingroom/bedroom to the right. The door immediately to the left is my tiny bathroom. I can barely sit on the toilet, but that's because I need to get rid of my hefty gut. It's hard when you work in an office all day. And you have a thyroid problem.

I kept on feeling like I could hear someone in my apartment. So I started to cry, because I didn't want to die like that. I didn't want to die as some fat guy in his towel. All just because somebody did a home invasion because I couldn't remember a fucking dream. So there I was, crying, blubbering really. Too afraid to open the door.

In a moment of angry, desperate courage, I burst the door open flailing the lid of my toilet around. Screaming at the top of my lungs. My towel, slipped off and caught on the corner of my couch. And I fell face first in to my own toilet lid.

I woke up in the hospital. Apparently a neighbor heard me screaming and called the cops. I was unconscious. When I woke up, I told them that I had suffered a home invasion.

In reality, something bad did happen. And it was all my fault. And in a sense, it was all because I couldn't remember a dream.

Man on the corner.

The cool wind was blowing harshly down the street, forcing a collection of garbage to twist into it's own kind of tornado. Random spittle would come in a wave and slap anyone walking in the face. Umbrellas were useless, as the wind was too strong, and the rain was sideways.

Because of the weather, the street wasn't as busy with foot-traffic as it would be on a regular day. But it was still busy enough. Crowded enough for the man standing on the corner. Crowded enough, but could have been better for him.  He was wearing a light black T-Shirt and blue jeans. He stood alone, motionless. Staring slightly upwards, his eyes were face was unflinching to the cold. He stood facing the wind.

In this town, you could be pretty strange without anybody noticing. The only thing that was a set back for him was that he had muscles, so girls were staring. He couldn't stand there for too much longer. But he had to make sure that it worked. So he had to wait. Hopefully it would only be girls staring at his chest, and no one wondering why a man would be standing like that on such a day, for such a long time.

Already a couple of people had walked passed him one way, and then came back to see him there. But they chose to mind there own business. Which was good, for them. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and looked at the time.

Any second now.

There was a loud sound of an engine, but seemingly impossibly loud for a regular car, bus or semi. And it was coming from above. The wind seemed to get stronger with it. People were moving there head's and bodies to see what and where the noise was coming from.

Not him though, he kept facing exactly where it always had been. But with a smirk lifting up his face.

That's when people started running, jostling him, screaming, running. It was joy in his heart. First time he'd felt that in a while.

The helicopter seemed to crash in slow motion. Into the first and original Starbucks ever made.

Fucking Starbucks.

He dropped his phone and smashed it to the ground. And ran with the rest of them. 

What to do on a warm night.

The heat became comfortably stagnant at night, after being blisteringly hot throughout the day, the night air became room temperature, the stars had just emerged and twinkled the world with a healthy glow . It was the kind of night that magic could happen on. And did.

That's what they were looking for, the two of them; magic. And that's what they were, the two of them; magic.


They stole their first and only car that night, it wasn't the first thing that they stole. Over the past couple months they had taken the time to gain access to their parents accounts. They were waiting for the right day to go to an ATM for a withdrawal. The perfect day was today. Friday. So no one would notice the accounts had been gouged until Monday. And they'd be gone by then.

Freedom is important when making a decision to leave with the one that you love. Making sure that you are no longer mentally tied down by the world that raised you. Allowing yourself the ability to forge a new world for yourself. A world in which you are the one in control of the parameters that decide what is important in life, and what is not.

They didn't steal a car from someone they knew. Too easy to track. And they only wanted to get one city away before they bought a car for themselves.

And they held hands while on the road all night. the warm wind blowing in through the car window's. Listening to music. Taking turns driving. They were never seen or heard from again by their family and friends. They simply disappeared.

Magic.

Confession

It can be difficult to distinguish good from bad. Too often are we exposed to rhetoric and moral upbringing that tells us that there are good people and that there are bad people. When, in fact, it's more often situational and reliant on many more variables than the moral character of one single individual. Not to mention that's assuming that a human being's moral character is a constant. It's not constant. Trust me.

So, when, for example, I was asked by a friend to drive a car to an unknown location, not look in any compartments, and walk away. I knew something was up. If you were to ask me now, how could I have not known what was going on was bad? You could chalk it up to these specific answers.

I have never known my friend to engage in such behavior.
I am naive one the best of days, and this was a bad day.
A part of me knew something was up but figured 'fuck it'.

Let me state, for the record, that in most things. I don't mind people other than me getting fucked over. No, don't think for a moment that you're any different. You, for the most part, don't care if somebody else had their identity stolen, or car stolen, or dog kidnapped. You only care if it happens to yourself. You especially don't care if a drug dealer got ripped off a couple hundred thousand. You even like it if it's been done by a person just like you.

My friend and I, we're just like you.

Let me just say, for the record. I feel bad about the cat. I don't really care about anything else. But had I known that there was not just a drug lord, but a cat in the trunk. I would have opened the trunk and got the cat out.... and the guy.

By the time the car exploded though, I was half way home, and there was nothing I could do about the cat.

There's nothing I can do now, a guy and a cat our dead. I had a hand in it, more like a finger and a thumb. All I can say is. the next time my friend asks me to drive a car to an specific unnamed location, and walk home. I'll check the fucking car for cats...and people.

Short, Little. Short, BIg.

He was a short, little man. It's important to say both because, there are short men, that you wouldn't call little. And there are little men, that you wouldn't call short. He was both.

He didn't have short man's complex, he was too little for that. He was so little that he could be compared to a weasel. He'd weasel his way in and out of everything he could get his hands on. From friendships, to jobs, to women.

He was the kind of short, little man that was so good at being short and little that it took most people a long time to figure out what a short, little man he was. This was because he needed everyone that came in to his life to like him, and hopefully love him. So he could get things from them. It's always easier to get things from people when they love you.

So most people thought he was amazing. Most people loved him. But not all. There was a woman, a woman that saw right through him, that was friends with a woman that he was trying to sleep with. Every time she saw him she would say things like:

"I could break you like a toothpick, fuck off." or
"You're like a Jack Russel Terrier, but less useful" or
"I hate you, stop trying to fuck me and my friend. You're clearly a waste of time"

He couldn't stand her, but mostly he couldn't stand the fact that she hated him. How could she hate him? He was so charming, he knew he had a way with people! How could she see through that? So one night at a party they were both at. He asked:

"Why don't you like me?"
"I told you why the moment that I first met you. You're a worm of a human being"
"I'm not, I'm a good guy, everybody loves me."
"You don't love yourself, because you know that you're a joke."

She was a short, big woman. It's important to say both, because she was short in height, and big in the sense that she was powerful, a force to be in awe of.

She was someone who carried power everywhere she went, with few friends, all of which were true and loyal. She was someone that people wanted to be a part of something with. She had a power that mystified most people around her. The power came from inside herself. And she used it to see through little people; short and tall.

As months went by, he noticed that he couldn't stand his own thoughts as much, and that people weren't taking to him as much as they used to. He wasn't invited out as much as he used to be. Something was changing in his circle of friends. And he knew who to blame; it was all her fault. She had turned his world against him.

He found out where she lived and came to her apartment building and waited across the street until she came out to go to work. He ran up behind her with a knife in his hand. In a flash of light he was down on convulsing and in a blinding amount of pain. She had turned around and tasered him.

"Wow, now you really do look like a worm."