Interpreting Dreams

I’m at a gas station really early in the morning; the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. I’m in a fairly rural area, surrounded by fields and one or two structures. They are in the distance, so I can’t tell what they are. The station doesn’t feel familiar, so it’s prolly the first time I’ve been there. It’s chilly and I have my red Georgia jacket on. I’m at the pump, and while the car is filling up, I’m just milling around. I notice two teenagers coming up approaching me from the road, I guess they were on their way to school, walking. They come within a couple yards of me, and stop. I’m thinking, “this could not be a bus stop,” and it’s making me really uncomfortable.

The two teenagers make some small talk with me about where I’m coming from and where I’m going. I laugh uncomfortably and ask them why in the world they would be up this early, and if they are heading to school. They both look down at their legs and then it’s clear to me that they are dressed to play some soccer. Their socks are high, wearing flip flops and both have mesh bags slung over their shoulder with a soccer ball and a pair of cleats.

I notice this middle aged guy in his truck pull up to the pump directly across from me. I think it was a Durango, but what I really notice is how beat up this guy looks. He doesn’t look like he’s been physically attacked, I mean beat up by life in general. This guy has had a rough couple of days. We make eye contact and I nod my head to him as if to say “good morning”

When I turn around, the two teenagers are gone and up in a field next to the station playing soccer with some other guys. I stroll up to the edge of the field and as I’m watching the game, I’m thinking to myself that the kids must have thought I was here to play too because I was wearing a sports jacket. The field is pretty well kept, yet there are barbwire fences that section off the whole acreage into squares.

I have no agenda at all, and in no rush as I walk back to my car. I’m curious to know what kind of mileage I got out of that last tank. I’m thinking it only needed 12 gallons. Yet, as I get to my car that man is still there filling up his car. Then I notice that that my car doesn’t have the hose in it! The nozzle isn’t even back on the rack. I follow the hoses around and it takes me a second to realize that the man is filling up on my bill. He’s standing there with this back to me as if I wouldn’t notice!

“WHAT THE SHIT DUDE!? What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You can’t do that! “

I rush up to the store and find a clerk who’s wearing this dorky vest. I immediately question his ability to actually do anything. “This jackass is stealing my gas! What the hell am I supposed to do?! I’m not paying for this!

We both rush back out to my car and the guy has already locked himself into his truck. I see $20’s and $50’s strewn on the ground as if to pay me. I think to myself, “wow this is a really good payoff.” I’m on my knees collecting the money as the clerk is reasoning with the man. The man has a cigarette and the windows are all locked tight. I stand up to see him crack the window to blow smoke out, and the clerk, who wasn’t really standing close to the glass in the first place, take a step back and fans the air in front of him.

I’m standing up behind the clerk squeezing the wad of 20’s and 50’s. I think to myself, “This clerk is a real fucking loser, what a wimp? Well, at least this guy is locked up in his car while he’s smoking at a gas station. It’s not safe, but it’s safer than him smoking outside his car I guess.” I’m not even concerned anymore with the stolen gas. “I got a wad O’ chedda sitting next to my balls – that would be a great line in a rap.” I think to myself.

The next thing I know the man in the car pulls out a gun and is pointing it at his temple. You can get a good view of it thru the back sliding glass of his truck. I hear him bitching about all the money he just lost gambling and how he’s ruined and what not. He was on this lucky streak with a gift he got but now it was gone…blah blah blah…. It all makes sense I guess, this guy hasn’t slept in days, he must really be in some deep shit.

He leans forward looks me up and down, and pauses on my shoes. I’m wearing some Chuck Taylor’s – just like Mack’s – black and white low tops. He points the gun and fires two at me. “WHAT THE SHIT! What are you doing!?” as I jump over and behind another car. “What the hell is going on? Stop shooting!?” I bolt for behind the store, panicked as if he’s coming after me. I’m afraid to even look back. I don’t know where to hide! I cant hide, he’ll find me!

“WHY THE HELL DOES THIS DAMN FIELD HAVE BARBEDWIRE EVERYWHERE?! Holy shit, it’s the shoes! He was talking about my shoes! These are lucky shoes. These are magic fucking shoes!” I’m screaming at myself as I make leaps over the fences circling around the back of the station hoping to get to my car. I see the truck break thru two fences after me barreling through the field. I’m dizzy with fear and panic as I leap head first over each fence, roll and start running again. As I look back, the old man isn’t the one driving the car anymore; it’s that damn clerk trying to run me over now. “What the hell did I do to him!? He knows about the shoes too! I’m screwed.

The truck skids and spins thru two more fences and right as I get back to the other back side of this gas station, making the stretch to my car, I see the truck flip and roll over twice. The speed at which I am moving to my car is unaffected by the possible death of the clerk in the truck. I leap into my car, and speed off, praying that my car doesn’t break down.

I make it to Andrew’s apartment, and he’s standing around as if he was waiting on me. We slap five, “Holy shit, Andrew, you’ll never believe what just happened to me.”

“Wait a sec, I think Trevor wants to hear it too.”

I see Trevor step into the room, and as he steps forward to give me five, I drop down into the fetal position cover my head and plead. ”Holy shit, please don’t kill me!”

the end