Alex Peak


2008/07/06:  Taking the Bullet

Also available in .txt.

In this dream, I have a very small brother and sister.  There is this guy I and others know, who turns out to be crazy, admitting to murdering some of our mutual friends.  He says he aims to kill more, and makes it clear that he is a threat to my little sister and brother.

I have a gun, which I aim at him and fire.  The gun is odd: it has a delay.  But two or three seconds after I pull the trigger, a huge hole opens in this deranged man’s chest, and he is dead.

Someone says to me that I made a mistake, that I killed the wrong man, and that someone else has admitted to the murders.  I am momentarily afraid.  Did I make a mistake?  I conclude that I had not, since this man I kill clearly indicated intent to murder, and his mere presence in my house was a necessary threat to the lives of my small siblings.

In the confusion, however, I may have pulled the trigger again.  I don’t know.  But, fearing that a straw bullet may come out of this weapon at any time and inadvertently harm my siblings, I turn the gun toward myself.  Just when I think it’s confirmed that I had not pulled the trigger after all, this odd gun with its delay releases a bullet right into my check.

I do not die immediately, but am convinced that I will die within a few minutes, or a few hours if I’m really lucky.  I’m sure of this because I have a huge hole in my chest.  I can see clear through to the other side.  This had to have taken out part of my lung and part—if not all of—my heart.  My breathing is heavy, as I’m having trouble gathering air.

Oddly, however, I don’t die at all.  Weeks later, I’m still alive, and am in the process of finding stuff and moving it to other locations—heavy lifting.

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