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Daddy issues (A short interpretation of a dream)

(excuse spelling, punctuation and grammaticality errors... I just needed to write it down and get it out)

It always starts with me. I am driving my jeep Cherokee through a rural area. I am driving up to a house in the backyard of a house. For some reason, I have this feeling like I know exactly what I am doing there. And every time I dream, I am still not sure of WHY EXACTLY I am there....

But either way.... I pull up to this house in the backyard of a house. this house is a smaller guest house, or possibly when it was built for workers on the surrounding farm.

The countryside is sprawling and wet. There are fields in every direction. Typical for farm-country midwest.

The larger house sits atop a small hill, there is a gravel driveway leading from the highway to the house. While the smaller house sits down lower near the creek. It is a tingey reddish color and there is a two track dirt driveway that leads to the front door that the tenants must not use much at all. It has grown over in spots with waist high tall grass.

for some reason... I am already there. My jeep Cherokee is parked in the tall grass two-track driveway with the driver's side door open. I am inside the house, holding a blue knitted blanket when I hear a car pull in the driveway.

I feel captured. I feel like this leads to the end of the line.

I step outside, still holding the blue blanket. and immediately connect eyes with the people in the driveway. They are typical redneck types.

The man was alerted the instant he saw my jeep parked in the driveway and the back door to his rust colored shack open.

I lock eyes with him for what feels like an eternity. he is holding a shotgun standing just outside of his 1985 wood paneled station wagon. I am holding a blue afghan walking out of the backdoor of his house.

I know that I have to make a move. I know that I am caught. I know that this man is pissed off and white trash. two not -very-good things. and even worse when they are together. a volatile combination. And just as quickly as the feeling of fright came to me, I had a feeling that I knew exactly what to do.

I shouted to him "geez, it took me forever, but I finally found it!" and I walked slowly and knowingly towards him. this confused him just enough to relax with the shotgun and it brought me a bit closer to the open door of my jeep.

when the moment was right I threw the blanket in the jeep and jumped in as fast as possible. The jeep, keys in ignition, started instantaneously and I threw it in reverse to go back up the driveway.

The wheels though, were turned the wrong way and the reversing only almost put me off of a steep bank and into the river. I put the jeep in drive and I drove towards the house.

I was now driving right at a poor man wielding and shooting at me with a shotgun. at the last moment he jumps out of the way and I turn left just in front of the house.

My jeep is slicing through the tall grasses and crops of whatever-the-fuck it is that is in these fields.

I'm driving towards a flat place in the creek. a place where it's not a steep ravine. And of course, out of nowhere are two other vehicles slicing across the field in my direction. and the station wagon tailing behind them.

all I can do is hope that I can drive across the creek. at this speed, I'm pretty sure that I'll either make it, or something will break and I'll get shot and run over.

worst case scenario.

and up ahead are two more vehicles headed at me. One has cut on an angle across the adjacent field and is headed exactly for the portion of creek that I am. and I can tell that we will hit that point at exactly the same time.

I jam on the gas to hopefully beat the oncoming car to the creek.

sure enough, I make it by a hair. and the oncoming car slides out in the river fortunately blocking my trailing vehicles.

There was only one vehicle now, headed across the field at me. doable.

with little effort, I outfox the remaining truck and slide onto the paved highway.

The highway is a typical midwest highway. Straight as hell with power lines running straight as hell along the side of it.

The sky is blue, the crops are green, and I am being chased across the countryside by a gang of rednecks who all seemed to mobilize with swat-team speed.. just because I took some blue blanket from a house.

and I don't know how I got here

I'm traveling as fast as I can to "I don't know where" and everybody that I pass seems to have a grudge against me. they seem to know me.

I notice that I am being trailed by a few pickup trucks. I turn sharply to the left on a road that apparently goes though some lame-ass midwest town. The redneck pickup trucks are definitely faster than my jeep. they catch up to me just as we race through town, they surround me and start shooting.

typical car chase scene, only dirtier. When I hit a big road bump of a man.

One of the rednecks had fallen out of the passenger side of the truck in front of me. He was hanging out the door, shooting back at me when he hit the shitty red-neck door latch and fell out.

Great. now I just ran-over Hoss.

now, I have stolen a blue afghan blanket from a shitty red shack and then I ran over Hoss.

the truck that was in front of me falls back to check on tire-track Hoss, but it just made the truck behind me more aggressive.

with a bit of dumb luck and innate know-how I take a right down a smaller town road.

there is a lake up ahead I know.

I speed into the parking lot of the restaurant and hit my brakes

The truck following me does the same, but slides out of control through a wooden fence and down into the lake below.

with the hope that nobody notices, I jump from the jeep and run around back of the restaurant.

There is a patio around back and I just hide in a corner against the wall.

There are about five other people on the patio. They all take notice to me. They all see that I am hiding from something. They all sense that I am the bad guy. obviously... I am the out-of-towner. who just ran over Hoss and forced Jim and pat to drive their diesel into the lake below.

The only thing I can think to do is put my index finger up to my lips and make the international symbol for "shuush"

Everybody from the dining room of the restaurant is getting out if their seats and filing out of the side door to view the truck in the lake.

As the diners on the patio all stare at me confused.... I assess my situation.

I have no clue why I was in that house stealing that blanket. I have no clue where I am. I have no clue why these people are chasing me like it's some sort of fucking action flick. And.... if I wasn't before... now I am definitely a murderer.

I don't even know my name. I don't even know what I am wearing.

the realization kicks in that I am in a dream.

I have had this dream before.

I have been in this exact situation before.

The smaller bald man in the corner is going to make a move and capture me.

There is a picture of me on the door.

There will be a beautiful woman

She is going to shoot me with a shotgun.

This is how I die.

I have had this dream before.

and sure enough, the bald man in the corner is rising out of his chair in slow motion. I look to the door and sure enough, there is a picture of me on the door. Apparently I am a serial killer. Damn.

I look around the patio and everybody knows me . They already pieced it together. I was the last damn person to figure this out. Shit, they already made flyers.

no wonder they were swat team rednecks.

and just like that. regular motion.

I barely have time to react. The small bald man grabs me and puts me in some sort of weird arm hold. He is muscular.... small dick complex I presume.

But oddly enough, he mentions that it's his first time actually having to use this sort of weird arm hold.

I know what happens next. He twists my arm and brings me to my knees and hands me over to the beautiful woman.

but... I try to change the future. I bend down and headbut the small-dicked man and manage to free up an arm. I reach over his head and punch him in the kidney to escape his grasp.

I turn to run towards the stairs.... and there she is.

Fucking hot.

My type of girl too... Brunette, smart, and unmanageable.

I'm so taken aback by her beauty that I almost gave up when she grabbed me. I barely even fought back. I was happy being dominated by such a goddess.

but, shit, I don't want to get shot by a shotgun.

I know what happens next. I am on my knees, she kicks me to the grey patio wood floor, grabs a shotgun from the redneck who walks up the stairs and shoots me in the back of the head. destined to live the rest of her life hunting down guys like me just to take revenge for her father's actions. She is a torn woman I can tell, she has taken this job and does it very well. she has made it her life to hunt guys like me. To seduce guys like me.

Her father was just like me. he was the "Winnebago" killer, I watched a history channel documentary on him a while back. He traveled with her the whole time he was killing. Her name is "Angela" She was only like 8 years old at the time of his capture, but she met every single woman that her father killed. He used Angela as a mask to cover his true nature. He never harmed her, but used her as a pawn the entire time. They would go to the park and play on the swing set together. They would stop and get ice-cream together. they traveled the country together. The "single father routine" Her dad would pick up a nice girlfriend along the way. a potential candidate for "new mom". but they never worked out. They all met their end at the tip of his kitchen knife.

Angela's mom had died during child birth, and none of the women her father found turned out to be as good as his wife.

none.

not a single one.

Angela had punched me in the unsuspecting neck and brought me to my unsuspecting knees.

This is how it happens.... I actually didn't change the future.

This is how I die.

the redneck with the shotgun will be walking up the stairs any nanosecond now.

I need to act.

She has my arms held in some sort of full nelson business, so there's not much I can do.

So I say, " I know you Angela" and manage to stand up and throw her 135pounds of sexy/misguided/conflictedness over my head and on to the grey patio wood where I had died so many times before.

and I say, "and this is the shotgun that you kill me with Angela" as I grab the shot gun from the approaching redneck.

I hold the gun to the back of her head.

the barrel reaches down through her shiny dark hair and touches her neck.

The cold steel alloy. The Kitchen knife.

I can feel her breathe. She takes one of those breaths that you take after you cry. The stuttering end of crying breaths, to the normal deep, fluid, breaths. One deep inhale and one shuttering exhale.

She was just as conflicted of a person as me. She was ready and willing to let me end her inner battle that she fought with day in and day out. The nerves that kept her up at night. All the addictions of her youth. The memories of her father. The eyes of every single woman he murdered. The mother's touch that she never felt.

But I couldn't do it. I might have been a serial killer in some dream world somewhere, but I sure as hell couldn't bring myself to kill the only person who is just as conflicted as myself. The only person who could potentially understand me.

I turn her over and kneel over her body.

We connect eyes.

she is staring at me with fire. She reaches up, grabs my shirt and pulls our chests together.

she kisses me with fucking passion. Not like a little bit of passion, but a while lot of fucking passion.

Meanwhile, the crowd of rednecks and smalldicks stand in awe as the hot F.B.I. chick and the serial killer practically fuck on the grey patio wood . She whispers in my ear. "I found you.... daddy"

Made


we grew up with lights around
we started early and our fights we found
we were all alone
i was a liar
true.
i'm on fire

stop breathing so much
you'll only make it worse
you'll only lead yourself closer and closer
to the inevitable
don't give up now
we'll fight
we can fight
tonight

because it doesn't seem so crafty
when all the doors are drafty
with leaky swollen seams
fragments from the dreams
you drempt all night
it just isn't worth the fight
and it surely isn't worth
figuring out the wrong from right.
right?

Learning Leaning Yearning

Where did all the money go
and where did you take the television?
that i carried up the stairs
because ive been repairing
and reconstructing
the whole time
and god damn
god damn
im not ready
and i wasn't

In a year or so
she'll call me back
and we'll start this whole thing over
maybe when i'm sober
maybe when im older
and can understand the colder shoulder
i can wake her up and roll her over

In a year or so
i'll return the favor
and we'll learn from the mistakes
what it takes
when it breaks
and what it feels like when its fake
so i can hold her when she wakes

it only took a week
to dirty up the sheets
it only took a month to
decorate
the place
restless restless heart
race
you're too tall for your own good
you're too awkward to keep friends
as we've learned it always ends
and you're stuck with yourself
till the day is done

don't we just think it's perfect?
don't we just think it's beautiful
when everything falls apart?
isn't it a change of tides
and emotions
lives and oceans?

the hardest part
is learning from it