11052007pm.

I was standing behind a "girlfriend" (that's how the dream identified her. I'm not sure who she was. I have an idea, but it seemed to be switching between two girls, and neither appeared very clearly), she was in the window, and she was under the shades looking outside. I put my arms around her (despite the shades) and rested my chin on the back of her head. Her hair was trimmed very short, barely longer than stubble, except for a few long, stray bits. We were talking and laughing, indistictly, looking across at the neigbors' house. The first clear thing i heard her say was, "Haha, why 20?"

"20 what?" I asked.

"You said i owe you 20 fake trees!"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but i went along with it. "Yep, 20."

I could see the shadows my hands made on the wall of the neighbors' living room wall, across the way, through their window.

She said she was going to take a nap. I was disappointed because i was having fun with her, and now she was going to sleep. She lay down on the couch, and a bit spitefully, i took the book she was reading, a really old looking reddish-brown leather thing with a golden spine and clasp, and opened it to read.

I was walking down the hall, from room to room, and into her bedroom. Children were playing outside. With guns. Toys, hopefully. I could see them through the shades. I'd have to remember that you could see through her shades.

I looked around and left, and she caught me as i walked out and closed the door. There wasn't a good reason to be in her room, and she was mad about it. I felt ashamed. She was still sleeping on the couch.


We were in the kitchen of a mansion. I was sitting on some sort of low wall, and she was on my lap with my arms around her waist. There were a lot of people around, at least in the nearby rooms. We were talking to a couple of people. One warned us that the man we were talking to was a con man, and anything he said was a lie.

My "girlfriend" began to be flattered by the con man's words. She was enjoying his attention. It was obvious. "She just said this guy's a con man. You can't believe anything he says. Why are you listening to him?"

It didn't stop. She was hesitant, but she started to stand up, getting off my lap and looking at me a bit apologetically. But she left with him. She went upstairs with him. Whatever he'd been saying to her had been enough to make her leave me. After years with me, the lies of a con man were enough to get her to walk away from me and leave with him.

Two men, gang members, were taunting me about it. "You know what they're up there doing, huh?" "Aw man, your girl went upstairs with him. That's gotta suck, man." Elbowing me, smirking to each other. I wanted to leave.

Everyone in the living room was facing the front of the room, which had a long glass wall with the front doors in it. They were all watching the driveway, and the road in front. The mansion was isolated, far from anything, but cars passed by on the road every few seconds.

I wanted to leave.

The only way out was past all the people and out the door, past more people, and down a very long road. I'd need to hitchhike. And they really didn't want me to leave.

I was stuck. I sat by the fireplace.

They were still upstairs.


While i was thinking of something to do, to get me out of there, two guys (also gang members, seems everyone was but me) pulled out some really large pistols they'd taken off the fireplace across the way, from under the clock and a cloth, and were waving them around. One was copper and black, reflective, and shiny ("The Copper Killer". Pun. Get it?), the other was chrome or silver and black. They had cranks on the sides, and sounded like chainsaws when they wound them. I don't know what they were doing with them, threatening each other, or just showing them off, playing around, but i didn't feel safe, and every time one pointed remotely toward me, i felt it might go off.

I went back in the kicthen. The men were threatening me, physically.


I went outside, through the front glass doors. I watched some cars go by. A car pulled into the gravel driveway. A large, insanely decorated car. The "boss" was waiting for it. It held someone very special.

The car stopped a few feet in front of us. It elaborately unfolded itself. It was decorated with card suits: diamonds, hearts, clubs, spades. Numbers 2 through 10. It was shiny, and plastic, and thick, and unnatural. It felt dangerous.

A thick vinyl flap unzipped and unfolded itself. A man was inside, held down feet-to-head by a 16-inch wide thick shiny black vinyl strap with a buckle on it. The strap rose, and a giant playing card rose: the 9 of Spades. "The Spoon" as the label on the strap identified it. It seemed to also be the man's nickname. When the strap was lifted, the man sat up, back towards us. He turned.

He was a small, pale, unnatural old man. He hadn't been alive in a while. He said something to us. I don't remember what.

The gang boss was outraged. This old man in the box COULDN'T be his life-long hero. He was small, weak, effeminate, spoke with a small voice. He surely wasn't the legend the boss worshipped. What was going on here? Was this some kind of joke?

I wanted to leave.


I woke up feeling like i'd been punched in the stomach.