I had an utterly bizarre and bewildering dream a couple nights ago and I feel like I simply have to recount it, if not for your entertainment, then only for my piece of mind.
It began simply enough: I was sojourning at my great aunt's house in Belgium. Her house is a warm and friendly place and I have nothing but fond memories of staying there. This dream may change how I feel about that house forever. As is the case with many dreams, though I was in her house, neither my great aunt nor anyone I had ever met before was present. Instead there was an aged lady of around sixty-five who may have represented my great aunt in spirit, an older man in his forties who was present for a very brief period of time, and two doomed children,
I don't remember if I was told, or if I simply knew, but these two kids were terminally ill. They carried themselves with great dignity and tried their best to act their age, but this facade belied the gloomy, painful internal realization of their own mortality. It were as if the air around them was thicker and whenever I approached them I felt a deep sense of dread.
The children and I spoke for some time. We talked about things children are interested in: superheroes, big muscles, eighteen-wheelers, and cartoons. In a sense it was like looking into the past at my younger self and this was perhaps why I felt so deeply for their plight. They went off into the kitchen and this is when the older man approached me. He wanted to show me this gun he had. Let me say that John Woo would be proud for it was a long, silver .50 caliber Desert Eagle and even if you didn't know all that technical jargon, one look at the bad boy would make anyone think "holy fuck." He handed it to me and there was no doubt it was the real thing. It seemed to weigh ten pounds and moving it around revealed that the gun was well taken care of and solidly put together. Staring down the sights made me feel as if the gun were a mile long. I carefully set it down and the man lets me know that it's loaded. Gee thanks mister, I would have like to have known that before I handled it.
He left and the children promptly returned, we spoke some more. This is probably the best time to say that for the entire duration of this dream, the older lady was sitting on a couch behind me, remaining mainly quiet though she may have been the one to inform me of the childrens' condition. The child I like the least (I had selfishly picked a favorite) went off briefly to fetch a toy. I take this opportunity to hug the other boy. It felt like hugging a puppy or a fluffy cat. He was soft and squishy and warm and completely unbearable. How could such a sweet boy be doomed like he was? No child should have to accept death, damnit! Especially not this one who was not only the perfect example of humankind but was also facing his fate with bravery and dignity. It's situations like these that cause even the most pious of men to question the concept of God.
Before I could collect my thoughts I had picked up the gun again and was pointing it at his torso. I've never fired a gun and at that moment I think I was really hoping that I would shoot and miss, that I would attempt to shorten this poor martyr's suffering but fail. Without aiming I squeezed the trigger.
No sound.
The gun went off but there was no sound! What was supposed to be a deafening roar was instead a deafening silence. I could not, however, spare any time to ponder why there wasn't a loud pop, I had just tried to kill him after all. I briefly eyed him over and saw no wound. I felt immense relief and quickly hugged him. I drew back for a second look and to my horror confirmed my dark suspicion: he was hit. The look of agony in my eyes must have been clear because I saw his face change. He looked amazed and for a brief moment he looked happy too. I know he understood, and perhaps appreciated my intentions, but I felt the most awful guilt. Like any man, I have committed sins in my life and some of them have been grave, but I have never come close to feeling the guilt I felt in this dream. I knew that I had killed him and it was the most agonizing state of mind imaginable.
The blood started to flow from his wound, quickly staining his plaid flannel shirt. He briefly wrapped his arms around me, perhaps as a sort of thanks, and promptly sat in his chair, to await death like the little noble saint that he was. Remembering that I was not alone in the room, I looked behind me at the elderly woman. Without saying a word I knew what she was thinking. Her expression was one of pained acceptance. She understood that the second I had picked up the gun I was in a lose-lose situation. Either I miss and let his disease pain him until his death, or I hit and shorten his life even further while saving him from having to endure it all. Many would say that I made the best of the situation but I still couldn't help feeling like I had made a huge mistake and was the shittiest goddamned person on earth.
This is why the next part is so perplexing. As the other boy returned from fetching the toy I shot him without hesitation. Why did I do this? I was already feeling awful and only felt worse after shooting the other boy. I'm still confounded by how I could shoot him without a single opposing thought.
Before long they both started emitting long groans. Whereas a grown man would be howling with pain, these two were simply moaning as if they had a tummy ache. I would have rather had them howl than take the pain the way they did and With every painful noise they made I sank lower and lower into despair and before I could hope to find any resolution to this tragedy I had woken myself up.
Those who read this may not understand why this dream was so significant, and that is because I can't convey in words the deep deep guilt that I felt. It was the sticky acidic type of guilt that burns away at your insides, the type of guilt that makes you wish someone would shoot you just so that you don't have to deal with it any longer. Moreover, it felt REAL.
Furthermore, I rarely remember my dreams and when I do remember them they're almost always light and superfluous. This dream basically crapped on my whole day and I felt terrible for killing these two imaginary kids.