For many years the most clear and real dream I ever had involved a gun.
I am driving in a fairly remote part of 2 lane hwy and have car trouble. The only stop is one of those dark, dingy, greasy neon, roadhouse bars with gravel lots and few vehicles. I go in and politely beg the use of a phone.
Inside I stand awash in a strobing white light and speak to the door person through those bars you might see at a dive pawn shop counter.
I am given permission to come behind the cage to use the pay phone with the requirement that I pay the door charge to the owner before I leave.
While listening to the phone ring I notice a shadowy figure outlined in blue smoke out of the corner of my eye. I turn with bills in my left hand and the receiver outstretched to indicate I have not yet made a connection, and get a glint of the double barrel shotgun right before a crystal clear muzzle flash aimed at my navel.
I wake up sweaty and I swear I smell the shots every time.
Anyway the issue must have been resolved because it doesn't visit any longer, thank goodness.
Ok, knowing I have used up most of my cyber couch time - Remember "Straw Dogs"? When one of the local Neanderthals levels a shotgun at Dustin Hoffman's gut, he call him Mr.---, my real last name. I freaking crawled halfway up the seat in the theater.
[This message has been edited by G-Freeman (edited April 18, 2000).]
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