09-11-2014, 11:17 AM
I'm on the street when I come across two gang bangers having a gun fight. I try to hide behind a car but a bullet ricochet tears a hole through my jeans.
One of the gangbangers spots us behind the car. People shout for us to get out of there as the GB moves threatingly towards us waving his gun. He fires more shots at us ( I can't remember who us are but there is more than just me)
He is just about to shoot me, when a pickup comes up behind him and drives over him. People in the back of the pick-up truck pick him up an stand him the bed of the truck. The GB continues to threaten those around him. I approach him in the truck, his back is towards me. He starts to go for his gun, now in a holster on his hip. I grab the deer horn handle revolver before he gets it. He turns to me. I say something about him deserving to be shot. I pull the trigger and put a red hole in the middle of his white tank-top. He falls back into the bed of the pick-up.
Two cops in their navy blue uniforms propel me into the bedroom of a house to talk about the shooting. All I can think about is jail and trials and how can I pay for all this. I can't argue spur of the moment, because i talked to him before I pulled the trigger.
Then suddenly the clarity comes that this is a dream. A cascade of relief washes through me as I realize I don't need to pay for a lawyer and I'm not going to jail.
It was a very strong and weird transition.
One of the gangbangers spots us behind the car. People shout for us to get out of there as the GB moves threatingly towards us waving his gun. He fires more shots at us ( I can't remember who us are but there is more than just me)
He is just about to shoot me, when a pickup comes up behind him and drives over him. People in the back of the pick-up truck pick him up an stand him the bed of the truck. The GB continues to threaten those around him. I approach him in the truck, his back is towards me. He starts to go for his gun, now in a holster on his hip. I grab the deer horn handle revolver before he gets it. He turns to me. I say something about him deserving to be shot. I pull the trigger and put a red hole in the middle of his white tank-top. He falls back into the bed of the pick-up.
Two cops in their navy blue uniforms propel me into the bedroom of a house to talk about the shooting. All I can think about is jail and trials and how can I pay for all this. I can't argue spur of the moment, because i talked to him before I pulled the trigger.
Then suddenly the clarity comes that this is a dream. A cascade of relief washes through me as I realize I don't need to pay for a lawyer and I'm not going to jail.
It was a very strong and weird transition.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit