Last night I snuggled comfortably in my bed, pulled the covers around my neck, and next thing I know, I’m holding my pistol (with a steady arm, BTW) and aiming it at a man’s chest that I don’t know.
Somehow, I’d left my bedroom and was in a hotel room. I warned the guy three times to back away and get out. Instead, he slowly walked toward me. Once more, I told him, back away, he reached out and I pulled the trigger.
I can still remember the shocked look on his face, and thank goodness my imagination left out the blood. In the dream (have I mentioned this was a dream? Hehee, probably had a few of you going there for a minute), just a dark black circle imprinted his grey sweatshirt. I wasn’t so sure I’d actually pulled the trigger, until the man fell over backward and laid on the floor. I slowly set my gun down on a glass table. I remember the glass table, because I can still recall the ‘clink’ the metal of my gun made when it contacted the fragile surface.
Next thing I know, there’s a phone to my ear with a lady on the other end asking what my emergency is. All I could do was pant in response.
And then I woke up–still panting and my heart racing. This has been on my mind since. Firstly, usually when I dream, I’m not ‘attached’ to myself. I’m watching it play out like a movie that somebody made of me. This time, my dream came from the point of view of my eyes in my body. And, it’s been a long while since I’d had that vivid of a dream that I can recall how I felt during the dream. And, I found it odd that I never heard the gun go off, but I can clearly remember the sound of that gun hitting the glass table. Freaky.
I always felt if someone came into my home unexpected and uninvited, I wouldn’t have a problem shooting them. Call me selfish, but if it’s gonna be me or you left standing in the end, I’m picking me. Even though it was a dream, what waylaid me was how I felt after I knew the man was dead.
Those aren’t feelings one can anticipate, but if it ever happened (and we’re hoping it doesn’t) I can see myself having that same sense of shocked, frozen thoughts where I do what’s necessary, but I don’t remember any of it (as in calling the police, but not acutally remember lifting the phone and dialing). And the quick panic that cloaked me at the drop of a dime when I heard the 911 voice and knew (or thought so in my dream)that this was really happening.
What was great about that dream, was my current WIP (work in progress, as in book I’m currently writing for those of you not savvy with the writing lingo) my herione finds herself at a total loss and I wasn’t hitting her stunned emotions with the hammer quite right. Now I don’t think it will be a problem.