Although I rarely dream these days, I used to dream quite often. I had one recurring dream that used to come to me regularly in my late teenage years. To understand the significance of the dream you have to know a little bit about my brother and I. You see, my older brother Joe is a gun enthusiast and a black belt who works out twice daily. Calling Joe obsessive compulsive is an understatement to say the least. Whenever Joe gets into something, he dives in whole heartedly. Joe is the one person that would truly scare me if he were out to harm me. Compared to my brother, I am a softy. I don’t like guns and never truly adopted the chest pounding mentality of the alpha male.
So as the dream starts out, my brother and I are sitting around his apartment drinking beer. As it gets late, Joe starts discussing our biological father and reminiscing about the pain and suffering he put us through. “We should get even with him.” he said. While I certainly agreed that there was a score to settle, I didn’t like the look in my brother’s eyes. As the night went on, my fears were realized as Joe began obsessing about settling the score. Joe had his mind made up and he was heading out on a road trip with or without me. I couldn’t let him go alone. I had to be there to keep him out of trouble. So in the wee hours of the morning, after one last attempt failed to get Joe to forget this crazy idea, we put on our camouflage outfits and jumped in the car.
As we drove through state after state, Joe gave me a blow by blow of what he intended to do when we arrived and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I was wondering how I was going to stop him. I certainly didn’t want my brother to end up in prison. I also was concerned that dear old dad might be able to take care of himself and my brother would somehow end up the one getting hurt.
As we arrived at a trailer park near Atlanta, Joe began to ready himself as he began checking his four or five weapons. Having convinced himself that he was ready, Joe turned his attention to me. He opened the glove box and took out a handgun and tried to convince me to take it. I did not want it and refused to take it. Having realized I wasn’t going to take the gun, Joe took out a knife and held it out to me. “Take this just in case you need it.” Hesitantly, I took the knife and slid it into my pocket.
So as dreams sometimes do, we suddenly jump to the last scene, the confrontation. Having surprised dear old dad in his wife beater t-shirt, Joe quickly gains the upper hand and starts smacking dad around. After knocking him down a few times, Joe helps dad up and plops him down in a kitchen chair. Joe then proceeds to tie his hands behind his back.
With dear old dad subdued, Joe began to let lose verbally. “Do you know what we went through? Did you know that we went hungry night after night after you left us? Do you know how much I hate you?” The barrage continued as Joe held nothing back and got everything off his chest as I stood back passively watching the scene go down. As Joe reached the end of his tirade, he pushed his gun against Dad’s forehead and said, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Now it was dear old dad’s turn to put up his defense. Of course, Dad went straight for the heart. “I always loved you. I was there when your mother gave birth to you. From the first time I set my eyes on you I loved you, the both of you!” Dad kept going, and he started getting to my brother. The emotion was eating Joe alive and he began to break down. Dad started describing the early years before he abandoned us. He started talking about Christmas, Easter and birthday parties all things that I knew nothing about. Joe being older obviously shared some of these memories as he began openly weeping. As Dad continued down memory lane, I watched as he turned my brother into a babbling mess. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched Joe switch from a dominating force into the seven year old that wasn’t allowed to get out of bed to go to the bathroom at night. The only other time I saw my brother in this state was when he was been emotionally abused by Dad when he was just a tot.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to act. As the two of them continued the emotional exchange, I walked up to Dad, put my left hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and proceeded to gut him like a pig. I could feel the warm blood gushing from his stomach as I WAKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT. A dream…..a horrible dream….yet just a dream.
