Bullet Shock

This dream occurred before I moved out of my smaller apartment downstairs, but years after Scott and I had separated – Robin had moved in, and we were talking marriage, though not engaged yet. In the dream, I’ve never met Robin, and I’m married to Scott.



I made the mistake of taking a nap.

“I know, May. I wish I could be there to help you pack,” I say into the phone as I hang up another shirt. My hands move automatically, as I remote-view my friend, all the way on the other coast. I watch her tape up another box, worry on her pale face, her hands shaking, her cheeks damp.

“I’m just… so afraid I’ll be next. I never saw this coming… never thought he’d become this person.” Even though she can’t see me, I shrug… I always knew he was a psychopath. It was only a matter of time before he started killing people… but that’s not something you tell your best friend on their wedding day, or any other day for that matter, about their husband. Again, I keep my mouth shut, and let her get it off her chest. “He killed again last night. The cops were here this morning to tell me… he’s moving so fast they can’t track him anymore.”

That makes me shiver a little… but I comfort myself with the knowledge that they always slip in the end. “I’m sorry your husband is a serial killer, May. I really am. Maybe tonight, nothing will happen. You’re seeing the lawyer this afternoon… it’ll be over soon.” The police have been hushing things up, though – I know he doesn’t just want to hurt another girl. I know that he wants to find where the cops are hiding May… and I know he wants everyone to know what he can do… he loves it when he can break your head wide open and roll in your psychological entrails… he’s THAT kind of predator… the social mind of their town is just another toy for him to break.

I hear someone shouting in the background for another box through the phone, and asking whether or not May wants her winter shirts packed. “Is that Bessie?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks so much for sending her… she’s been taking really good care of me,” she replies.

Again I shrug… I don’t know why I do that… shrug when on the phone… just because I can see what’s going on around you when we’re talking on the phone doesn’t mean you can see me, too… “No problem. There’s no one I trust more.” Bessie is exactly who I want to be when I grow up. She’s wild, and she says what she wants, she always tells you what she thinks. She’s not afraid of anything. She’s strong, and stubborn, and if anyone can keep May going through this other than me, it’s Bessie.

I hear a guy talking in the bedroom – it’s a voice I don’t recognize. “You’re in good hands there, love. Listen… I’ve got to go. There’s someone in the house. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.” We hang up.

I finish folding and hanging up the last of the laundry, and step out of the closet. Scott is lying on the bed, on the covers. All the curtains are open. There’s a man I don’t recognize there – a cop – he’s in a shorts and short-sleeves uniform of grey cloth, and he has a badge, and a .22 rifle. My awareness spreads, as I watch him say something to Scott, and he throws some change on the bed. Scott knows all the cops, and they trade laughs. He’s searched our apartment. There are other cops searching other apartments. The security doors into the building are wide open, so the cops won’t have to be buzzed in every time they go out for something – and everybody’s front doors are open, too.

I don’t know what they’re looking for… and… there’s a strange man in my house with a gun.

For a moment, I’m silent, stunned… I watch the cop walk out of the bedroom, around the corner, and out my wide-open front door… and I’d have been fine if I’d have just kept my mouth shut. But… I couldn’t. It was a gun. He brought a GUN into MY HOUSE.

I lost my freaking mind.

“Who are you, and why are you in my house? Why did you bring a gun into my house? WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DID YOU BRING A GUN INTO MY HOUSE? TAKE YOUR GUN AND GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!” I scream at his retreating back…

Scott starts to sit up, he reaches towards me, fright on his face, words of hesitation in his mouth…

But it’s too late.

The cop pops back around the corner… levels the .22 rifle at me… Pulls the trigger…

There’s a loud bang.

Something hits my throat.

The world



And then I’m wide awake… and there’s a lump in my throat.


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