Thursday, July 13, 2006

I Died Last Night.

This is not an "I'm still in such a funk" post, though it sounds like it, because I think I'm actually emerging from the funk (though part of me is resigned to a life of misery). Be that as it may, I had a dream last night in which I died.

I was with a large group of people, none of whom I knew. I forget the locale, but maybe it was a take-out counter or something. Me and a bunch of strangers. Oh, and one guy with one arm around some woman's neck, holding a gun toward her temple with his other hand.

I don't remember being particularly scared at this point. Maybe I just thought he would never actually fire? I can't even tell if he was robbing the place or just generally insane or sociopathic. I just remember everyone else in the place screaming, and I felt almost detached from the entire situation.


It sounded more like a cap gun than anything, possibly because I don't know that I've ever actually heard the sound of real gunfire before. The man released his neck-grip on the woman, who now slumped to the floor, a bloodied mess. The room around me erupted in chaos, though strangely enough, not many people bolted for the door (which should, I would surmise, be one's first reaction). People were screaming, but no one was really effectively fleeing, nor was anyone rushing the gunman.


The gunman just started methodically shooting random people, as if he had only just realized that we were witnesses, and that he could be in serious doo-doo if we were left to live. Each pop corresponded to another person near me dropping to the floor. I didn't run. I didn't do anything. I just stood there.


I heard the shot, and I knew that the bullet that had just emerged from the chamber had my name on it.

I awoke before I experienced any pain.


Dop said...


anne said...

They say that dreaming of death heralds change. Which can make sense considering the funk you're in.
On peut espérer indeed. ;)

kat said...

yipes. a side effect of our current state of crime emergency, perhps?

Matthew said...

That's nothing.

When I was a teenage, I had a dream where my cousins and I were (for some unknown reason) on the run from Robert DeNiro. He chased us up this hill and I ran into a stand-alone restroom atop the hill (it was a full bathroom, not an port-a-potty).

At any rate, I was standing at the sink, out of breath, when I heard the door open. I looked up and saw DeNiro in the mirror, standing behind me, gun aimed. He fired one shot, and I felt the bullet hit my back. I then slumped to the floor. Then I woke up.

What's even more weird is that I was watching a show an interview on CNN years later, with someone who'd been shot, and they described what it felt like. Their description matched my dream exactly.

Yeah, I'm weird.

Drew said...

I'm more disturbed by the fact that you're resigning yourself to a life of misery than I am by the dream of death, frankly.

Don't do that.

Anonymous said...

You didn't actually die, you simply got shot. Try being sucked up by a tornado while sweeping a random corner of a desolate street...that dream leaves my head spinning.