I don't usually get too personal here... but I had a fucked up dream last night and it put me in the most foul of moods today...
I gotta type it out while I remember it. Maybe some comments will help as well...
Anyway... I was connected with the mob somehow. I don't know how but I was. No explanation. It seemed plausible at the time. Not on the violent side or anything...more like "after the fact" guy. Maybe a money launderer or something.
Things had been tough lately. Some snitches, some dirty dealing. The captains were looking to expose the rats and were offing them. I was innocent. I had no knowledge of anything.
About this same time a job I was working on (whatever it was...again, no real explanation in this surreal universe) was going down wrong. I was forthcoming to my bosses. I wanted them to know that I wasn't hiding anything, especially while there was a rat loose in the ranks.
They fingered another guy and somehow (again, no explanation) I was associated with him enough to make my captain suspect me. No matter of logical explanation from me could convince him that I was not connected to any double crossing.
It didn't matter. My associate...or accomplice as they called him... and myself were doomed. They took us "in custody" as they called it... I remember those words from the dream... and we had a mock trial. Nothing I said again made a difference. I stayed calm, cool and collected though. I knew I was innocent...but I felt if I acted scared, they'd figure me for guilty. So I kept my cool and tried to rationalize why I couldn't be the rat. The other guy was a basket case. Crying and pleading.
We were found guilty by our kangaroo court and lead to a secluded area by... yep, just like in every mob move... the docks. Our hands were zip tied behind us... but not our legs or feet. We were sitting in old chairs. Three wise guys with hand guns stood over us.
The other doomed man was a blabbering, sobbing mess. He peed his pants. His dispatcher.. his captain... the man that was going to pull the trigger on him... stood over him first and pointed point-blank at his face, eye level. The condemned man jumped up and ran, his hands tied behind him. A futile gesture I knew. But he was no longer in control of his mental faculties. He was going to try anything to get away.
The first shot was not from his captain. It was from my captain. In my knee. I can still remember that part of the dream as clear as if it was real. It was a small caliber gun but I still would have expected a knee shot to be excruciating... except if felt like more of a bee sting. My captain spoke, "it's just the knee...to make sure you didn't try to run". I said, "I understand..."
The other guy didn't get far. The first shot was in the back of his knee, which brought him down. The next two were in the back of his head while he laid face down in gravel, oil and fuel.
I leaned my head back on my chair, closed my eyes and prepared for my turn. I tried to think of what to concentrate on, to somehow fool my brain into not focusing on the searing pain that was sure to follow any second. I did speak one last time. I opened my eyes, looked at my captain and said, "Please...make it a clean kill..." closed my eyes again.
For a split second... I thought of praying.... to Jehovah, no less. But even in my dream state, I knew that was a stupid idea. I then focused on my wife. Just thinking of her made me calm again. I could see her face, her smile... It made me prepared... I was ready now...
But my sub-conscience interrupted somehow and said... "If this was a dream, this is where I would wake up".
And I did.