Nightmare #33 – The Avenging Spirit

(Male) This is such a politically incorrect dream, I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I was in a strip mall someplace and one of the stores was selling these just wonderful 100% Alpaca sweaters. All hand knitted. Earth-tones. Delicate patterns. Really lovely sweaters. The trouble was that a friend of mine had shoplifted one and now was experiencing threats on his life. And really odd threats, like poisonous blowdarts narrowly missing him

And I figured out somehow that it was a Central American avenging spirit or something that was getting even with him for stealing the sweater. So – and this made more sense in the dream – I was going to BUY a sweater and then give my friend the properly purchased sweater and return the stolen one so he’d be all squared up with the avenging spirit. Or something like that.

So I bought a sweater and then immediately I start finding poisonous blow darts aimed at ME. Which makes me realize – again this made more sense in the dream – that it was pissing off the avenging spirit that we even HAD these sweaters not so much how we had gotten them. So I figured, all macho John Wayne-like, that I’ll just have to kill the avenging spirit. I pull out the tiniest little hand gun, honestly the whole thing fit in the palm of my hand. And then instead of tiny little blow darts, I started getting hit with these six foot long spears. I returned fire and we went back and forth – and this is all happening in and among the little trendy shops of this strip mall. I have no idea how many bullets I had to start let alone how many I had left. Then the avenging spirit comes rushing toward me. I fire at it and I’m sure I hit it. Some how it continues running, running away, unaffected. I yelled out at the injustice “I totally hit you” like we were little boys playing.

The avenging spirit stopped running and turned to face me. It was my boss at work. He said “You can’t kill me with that.” I put the barrel right up against his temple. He said “That wouldn’t even penetrate my gray matter.” I pulled the trigger. I was out of bullets.

This entry was posted in Nightmares and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.