I have been sent to kill you...
I have been sent to kill you; and to make you pay.
Never try to hold up an index finger, with your thumb pointing upwards to make an impression of a gun. In fact, it is actually a wrong move to do that when you see some bald guy in front of you holding up a real gun, aimed at you. Should know very well that guns made out of uh, real flesh and blood would not shoot bullets.
Of course, I must have been another person altogether, and too idiotic to know that. And the next thing I knew, I was nursing a bullet wound on my left shoulder, albeit still alive and conscious to stare at it disbelievingly; then managed to stumble away, hop on a bus and get to the hospital. For some odd reason, the hospital was not in sight, and someone told me to get back to where I started, for an egocentric doctor lived there (to which I grumbled to having wasted money paying for the bus fare). Anyhow, the odd doc pried the bullet out, and stuck two measly Hansaplasts on me.
I thought we were not supposed to feel pain. But I did. Although I do not think it would be equivalent to a real bullet wound… but heck. Did I imagine the pain, or does it really exist in dreams? There is no way I am going to read through the many pages of Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams to know that, though. Perhaps I need a dream psychologist.
I still think dreams are wonderful.
At least it was not so bad. Better than having dreams of waking up, again and again. Heck, it was just last week when I dreamt I had woke up and walked sleepily, heading to the bathroom. And again. And again. Went on for like, six or seven times, until I finally decided to pull the plug, made my eyes open for good and climb out of the bed. I was thankful that it was not a schoolday; lest I would be late for classes and find myself waking up two hours later. Some people said I was being too tired to wake up. But between life and death, I think I would pick the former.
I just realised what I had just written here was total blasphemy, balderdash, with tongues from a green horned toad and a red flying dragon. Pure nonsense. But then again, all dreams are. Now, the question remains is why had I bother writing it down here…
On air now: The Authority Song, Jimmy Eat World (Bleed American)