I Kan't Spell

 
The Most Vivid Dream I Have Ever Had

Let me start by saying once again, that I don't have a ton of dreams. My dreams usually happen because I eat something late night or I am in a strange place for the first time. Since they so rarely happen they feel like symphonies to me when I wake up. I never wake up with more energy then I do when I have dreams.

Here it is - Feel free to say whatever you want.
~~
I don't know how it started but I am in Pennsylvania in the middle of a flood. This isn't like small town, National Guard, let's help some people out flood. This was Revelations type shit. From what I remember there were waves cresting and broadening all around me. First off, how did I know I was in Pennsylvania, because my Pennsylvanian relatives were all around me. As I was wading and bobbing in these filthy, valley infested waters with trees, dirt, trash, and dead animals floating all around me I see my Grandfather coming in a small-motorized boat. He is strong again and grabs me by one arm and rips me into the boat.

The boat nestles down the cresting valley waves and putts along a weeded gully. It is he and I and we have our heads down in the boat. There are poachers all around killing people for their boats and supplies. I think to myself (yes in my dream) that this must have been going on for a long time for the looting to have started. Looting is a bi-product of a stunned situation gone stale and a reverberation of action known to go unchecked can be constituted freely. As we traverse the stream and sometimes river I see my Uncle and people I have played baseball with in the past. They are all in boats. They are being killed or killing.

The boat my Grandfather and I are in comes to dock in a front yard of what appears to be a good friend of his. There are hundreds of cars in the front yard and back yard. They are handing out guns with ammunition. People are clamoring over amenities and food. There is no fighting but there is a pensive line waiting to see what will be available to them. At the head of the line when I finally get there is a conglomeration of women. They looked like women I have known but I couldn't make them out or remember their names. They handed me bullets and tuna fish in a can. They kept referring to the raffle and that the revolution would start tonight.

I was then on the back of a pick up truck drinking a cold beer with my Uncle and Grandfather. We were watching this massive field of refugees waiting for something. They were aligning themselves into a bowl shaped audience around the back of a red van. An MC jumped to the stage and it was Mel Brooks. He was surrounded by 4 ninjas in full black clothing covering everything but their eyes. They had their swords drawn and Mel was making fun of them. A band played next to them. They were playing Franz Ferdinand covers and jumping off the back of trucks and into puddles. The MC quieted everyone with his hands.

"For the exodus we will need to start selecting who gets what vehicle. All of your names have been placed into a hat and based on how many questions you answer correctly, that will determine what you make your escape from hell in or on as may be the case. We have everything from a plane and helicopter to horses and dune buggies. You will each receive..."

Just then a man leapt to the stage trying to grasp at the key bowl held in Mel's hand. He was slit in half by one of the ninjas. The crowd came to a hush and I got up to use the bathroom in the weeds.

"...before I was so rudely interrupted. You will each receive three questions. You will have the choice between question ranked 1 to 5 each time for a maximum total of 15 points. The first 20 people with 15 points fly on the airplane with me to Xanadu. Are you ready TO SEE WHO LIVES!!!"

I yanwed as I was peeing. The first name was called and I remember not even watching. I remember hearing over the loud speaker that the question was about the 69' Mets and how many homeruns Ron Swoboda had. The person answered incorrectly and made a lunge at the keys only to be sliced in half. The next name was being called: "Will Bret Holmes please come to the stage."

My eyebrows raised and my throat clenched up. I was moving in slow motion. I couldn't talk or breathe. I was having trouble being alive. I then gained composure a little and forced a smile on my face. I felt it appropriate to look jovial or excited on my way to the back of the red van that Mel was perched on top of with his microphone. I jested at one of the ninjas pretending to grab at the keys. He drew his sword and sliced off the top part of my ear. I went to a knee and clenched my fists. A nameless faceless old baseball teammate grabbed me and tackled me. He whispered in my ear, "I have the answers. Bet 5 on each one and take the plane out of here." I calmed down.

I looked out at my Grandfather and wondered when he would get his chance. Just then the band started playing Run Run Run by the Velvet Underground and the crowd cheered. There was an emphatic cheering from the women as I could hear their high pitched squeels when my name was called again saying "Here comes the first question." The women swooned in the audience and many of them ran forward toward me with their hands out wanting to grab me but were restrained by the Ninja's blazing swords.

My throat closed up again. My eyes welled with tears and I was moving in slow motion as the question was asked.

"Name 8 Oriole's on the 1970 World Series Champion team"
I stumbled to my feet and as if having the worst soar throat in history I mumbled out, "Palmer, Brooks, Frank, Boog, Cueller, Flanny, Blair, The Blade..." I couldn't think of the catcher or another pitcher. I was frozen. One of the ninjas lifted a card that read "0". I winced and punched the side of thje van knocking one of the ninjas off. I stepped forward when he fell on the ground near me.

"Cut me again fucko and I'll stick that fuckin sword up your ass. Come at me and I'll kill you." Just then I remember that I had a gun. I had the gun my Grandfather and I had gotten when I got here. Mel Brooks looks shocked and scared when I took it out. He dove to the back of the van. I noticed that the crowd was running. I thought to myself that I was a God with a gun. I then felt the weather turn freezing cold and everything in back of me seemed to be black. The woman who owned the house grabbed me and dragged me to the ground.

I then looked up and saw the heavens open. It was blacker than the shadows caste by a tree in late afternoon. Out of the sky came what looked like spirits but they were some sort of strange weather anomaly. The stalks of hollowed white clouds flicked over my head freezing my damp hair. I stood up in the middle of the storm and took off my shirt and screamed at the blackness. Mel Brooks had long since thrown the keys to the vehicles into the air and people were crawling to clamor for a key. I walked over and saw a key chain that was brown leather and round. It was the same as the one I had in real life. I looked up and my Grandfather and Uncle were standing there just as oblivious to the elements as I was. Their hair was frozen and they were being pelted by the weather as well. They looked serious and determined to walk out of there with me. I showed them the key and walked towards a large red truck with duel back tired and a gigantic grill. You needed a step to get in to the front. My Uncle grabbed the keys and shoved me in the back.


"Hold on you worthless little bastard."
"What?"

I cowered down and waited and as we drove my Uncle and Grandfather talked about Wyoming and the West and how they heard that the great flood had not breeched the Rockies but had somehow come partly over this side of the Appalachians.

"Generations of farmers are ruined."
"You'll never be able to raise a family in the east again."

I played with my fingers making shadow puppets on the back paneling of the truck. The sun being tossed at different angles making it difficult to both hide my nilly playing from these two men and still be able to master the art of making a decent bunny rabbit.
Link posted by JVMM : 10:43 AM