I had quite a dream before waking again near eleven. This is significant first, because I rarely remember my dreams and second, it was mostly coherent all the way through.
I was watching a western where the sheriff trailed and caught the bad guy and put him in jail. Years later the villain's son broke him out and the sheriff and his own son (now grown) went off to catch them. They do, and there is a shoot-out where the sheriff shoots the villain's son and the sheriff's son is up against the villain. It doesn't work. Several perfectly aimed shots have no effect, even when my rifle -- It is my rifle, since I'm in the movie rather than watching it now -- is fired with the barrel right up under his chin. He mocks me and confesses that he had switched my bullets with blanks. It comes down to a fistfight and I'm sent into a rage. I fling myself upon him, take him down and proceed to beat the living crap out of him. This is no longer about arresting him. I knew he must die. There came a point where he went limp but I still continued breathing. I fell to pounding on the man's throat until the sheriff showed me which artery to close off to finish him off. It was over. . . until the next day. The bodies were where we had left them out in the field. One of them started moving so the townsfolk started driving wagons over them. I woke, saw that I had finally got plenty of sleep and began with my day, guilt-free of missing overtime.
Matt will be here any minute so I should go. (Actually, I'm finishing this Monday morning because he showed up three and a half sentences before the end of the last paragraph. Anyway, I'll update tonite if I have time after I change water in the aquarium and host the company that's likely to call.)
- J I M O U T -