07/18/01
The Thwacking


Let me see how well I remember it...

I think it started out, I was going to my room to listen to music. I usually do that very early in the morning before it gets light out. I think I did in my dream, but when I was thinking of listening to another song it was starting to get light out, so I stopped. I turned off the tape player and noticed it get lighter around the windows pretty fast. It could only be a car driving by. But then I listened and I believe I could hear it pulling in. Great. Dad was home in my dream (I don't know where Ma was), and whenever somebody stops by in real life he--LITERALLY--hides in his room and refuses to answer the door. He used to make ME answer it--me, I who can't even look people in the eye or talk to them even if I need to. Can you believe it? Until I told him I wasn't going to answer the stupid door for him anymore, so now we BOTH hide until whoever it is leaves.

Anyway...

I think I went to his room or wherever he was and tried to tell him that somebody had pulled in--maybe Ma was here as well--and for some reason it was difficult for me to tell him, like we kept getting interrupted or something. He finally got the point though. I'm a bit peeved because this was a detailed dream and even though I just had it less than an hour ago, I can't remember much of it anymore. ! Well, I think we just stood in his bedroom--now it was daytime out--and watched the windows. Yes, that's it. There was a window where his closet should have been, and we were leaning over looking outside. Though on the wrong side of the house, it offered us a view of the long front driveway, and there was an old (classic?) car out there with a couple of guys walking around it. Whoever they were, they were the ones who had come to the house and were paying us a visit for some reason. At least one of them was tall, had sandy blond hair, a crewcut and a white T-shirt, a little bit thuggish looking. The lights were on in Dad's room (more than one light, unlike in real life, unless it was also his bedside lamp), and I reached up (??) to turn one off. "Turn off the lights," I said to Dad. "They can see us." (They weren't LOOKING at is--what I meant was, if they turned to look, they would be ABLE to see us.) So Dad turned off the other light and we crouched in the dimness looking outside.

We eventually came to the conclusion that it was best we hadn't gone to the door. These guys were..."bad" guys. We didn't want to associate with them. "Do you see that guy right there?" Dad muttered. "Has a North Korean cross on his shirt."

Now, in my dream, I guess the North Korean cross was the symbol of the North Korean army and of course they were bad guys. ;P It was just like the Red Cross emblem, only yellow. (I don't think I ever saw it but I remembered it from somewhere.) I suppose this guy was associated with the North Korean army or just liked it, like Neo-Nazis like Hitler.

(I can't think of what this necessarily meant as Dad didn't fight in Korea and doesn't have much of an opinion on it...he pretty much feels the same way about all Asians.)

In any case, there was more to this part of the dream but I can't remember it. Damn it! All I know is somehow we ended up with these guys in the house and we were punishing them. Yes, there was more to this...how come it's all faded now? <:( The only thing I remember is one of the guys was crouching bent over on the ground while I thwacked his behind with a newspaper or something. O_O I remember I was also "narrating" while this happened. I can't even recall what I said, it was about why I was or wasn't doing something I shouldn't or should be. Perhaps it was similar to "Well, I knew he deserved a lot more than a mere paddling--considering who he was and what he was involved in--but I also knew it was best to let somebody more appropriate deal with him before I got TOO angry." I narrated as if I were Archie Goodwin from Nero Wolfe. Only I feel I was supposed to be different somehow, maybe from a different decade. Just talking to myself with that silly New York accent. This was taking place between my living room and dining room; the guy was just huddled to the floor and I was thwacking away while whoever else was with me--I don't know if Dad was there but there were a few associates of mine--stood and watched. I think they convinced me to stop and took the guy away before I could decide to get more violent.

It just seemed that while I was hitting him, I wasn't doing a good job of it. The blows were all really weak and ineffective (although he seemed sufficiently cowed), and sometimes I even missed. It was like trying to literally BEAT someone with a flyswatter. You can thwack them a few times, but that's about it! A flyswatter isn't BIG enough to get a lot of force. That's what this was like. I kept hitting him as hard as I could and even as I did I knew it wasn't really doing much. It was more his intimidated mental state than any physical threats that was keeping him in his place.

I seem to recall that some kind of liquid figured in here somewhere--some thick yellowish liquid, and somebody was dunking something--their hands?--in it. Like in a vat. And I KNOW there was more to this dream, for example what the guys were doing outside that made us suspicious, how they got inside, how we got hold of the one and why I started beating him, etc....but it's all gone by now.

*sigh*

One small part involved a couple of characters of mine--one who was once attacked, and another who was attracted to him. I think I was just imagining their situation or something.

And that's it for today...



2001 Dreams
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