I've got a couple control-panel dials and gizmos from my wrecked plane in one hand. I come home, my lovely wife Lisa's there waiting for me, and all is good. I'm home for a little while, then the doorbell rings. It's a door-to-door salesman, and I turn him away. He comes back repeatedly, and eventually breaks through my tunnel gate, and then my door. I fight him as best I can. I knew in advance that he'd make it into the house, so I lock Lisa in a back room. The man's bigger and stronger than me. Our fight ranged all over the house. At one point, eventually, I find myself waking up in my kitchen with blood coming from my head. I hear Lisa yell. I get up and make my way to the back of the house. He had just broken down that door, and had just begun to force advances on Lisa. She was barely touched. Coming from behind, I stab him repeatedly in the back with a knife I brought with me from the kitchen. He's hurt, quite badly, yet turns around and pursues me towards the living room. He picks up some decorative statue thingy and hit me hard in the side. I think he broke one of my ribs. It hurts like hell, and I drop. As soon as he hits me, he drops from the loss of blood, but then keeps trying to get up. I get up, pick up a cinder-block that looked somewhat stylish as the pedestal the statue was standing on, and throw it down onto the intruders head. It hits, and then simply topples over. The man's finally knocked out, I kneel onto his lower back, and with the knife once again, stab him repeatedly in his back until I simply lose strength. In the meantime, Lisa had called the police. When they arrived, they covered me with a kind of blanket and had me wait for paramedics, Lisa made me coffee, and we just watched blood soak into the carpet. That's it. Hell of a first dream for the year. But I've got a theory as to why I had that dream. 2001 sucked, for me, on so many levels. 2001 kept beating me down since January first when I got a speeding ticket. But then, I finally won, I finally beat that bitch down, and I won. 2001's dead and gone, and I'm still here. Hey, it makes sense to me. |
