I need to get this out before I have no conscious recollection … ok so I watched the trailer for “The Purge” twice yesterday (because I’m THAT hellbent on going to see it) and evidently the premise stayed with me into the wee hours of unconsciousness - that and a combination of Red Dawn and the Anne Frank movie I watched when I was 16… *fade to* a number of people in the attic of a house, avoiding governmental-looking thugs outside … trying to whisper and an air of complete unrest and anxiety.
*Note: because this is recall from a dream … there will be holes … it fades more rapidly as I attempt recall; seemingly regardless of how avidly I’ve been using my Lumosity app on my iPhone to keep my brain at its most functional.
At any rate … we’re running, and in dreams that never turns out well … I can remember gun shots and attacks that end in kidnappings. People to my left and right scramble in and out of the darkness and now I have no idea whether I’m inside or out.
Usually when I can feel myself in danger, Kyle pops out of some corner allowing for me to breathe. Speaking of which, the weather has really been screwing with my asthma, thus all of my dreams involve shortness of breath … sometimes from all the “running” other times from the anxiety of the impending death by government thug. Now I’m in a room that looks eerily like my bedroom, if it were full of boxes and had more of a high-ceiling warehouse feel to it. I’m watching Kyle with blurred vision; he has his head down like my German Shepherd pup does when she stalks my cat and I can feel the possibility of a brawl in the very near future. It is at this point I remember that his brass knuckles, errr, legal self-defense weapon, rather, is in my car and I have not a clue where my car is right now. Not to worry, he makes it a point to hide weaponry around our house like Dwight Schrute’s apocalypse stash on Season 4, Episode 7 of “The Office”. They have many similarities in their preparedness for the zombie apocalypse.
I see him dodge into a poorly lit hallway and a John Travolta-in-Swordfish-looking brute wraps himself around him and they begin tumbling around on the floor. I have no qualms about making myself useful in a dangerous situation, but it happened too fast … I think he’s probably dead, but Travolta is injured. Injured or not, however, he’s still got about a buck, ten on me about 8 inches in height. This is when some awkward things happen … I back up and finally see the room: its small with an old couch. Travolta’s (I’m assuming) hooker girlfriend smoking a cigarette looking unabashed. He has an entourage with him: a Denzel-type with a trench-coat and pleated slacks. He pulls out his baretta and shoots him square in the face. No one saw that coming. Travolta is muttering words of insanity under his breath and I see Kyle’s bloody remains moving in the corner, he’s still alive … one tough son-of-a-bitch that Kyle. I feel like no one has noticed me yet. I’m somehow retaining a fly-on-the-wall status. At this point, Little Miss Hooker is uneasy as her beau wildly waves his baretta around and as predicted, he shoves her head down into a pillow and pulls the trigger.
Fuck. It’s just me now.
He notices me, of course… like he wouldn’t and I’d just wake up unharmed? Please. That’s not how dreams work. So, I can’t breathe, I can barely stand (another fun fact about my dreams is constant baby-deer-legs), and he points the gun in my face. Well, I won’t lie … I’m not crying but I sure would like to. I reach out and, with both hands, struggle for this weapon. SOMEHOW that would ONLY happen in my dreams, I kicked him in the face (because somehow we were both, like, on the floor struggling) grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger. One shot to his shoulder and I’m feeling confident. The baretta is now a sawed-off (of course) and I’m again pulling the trigger … I’m sure you can guess what happens here, BECAUSE it’s a dream … the shot gun let out a puff of air and sprayed him in the face with bb’s. Fucking great.
Now, the best part?
Travolta pulls out Sweeney Todd’s straight razors (2 of them) and comes inch-worming towards me. Because I obviously am now paralyzed, all I can do is grab his two hands with my two and hope to slice his ass before he can get mine … we struggle, and being he’s twice my size, he slithers away and slices my right shoulder … I look for blood and wait for pain and then ….
I’m awake and it’s 7am. Damn you, Travolta. I feel like I got no rest, whatsoever since I spent the whole night fighting for my life. TGIF.