I had a dream last night. I’m not sure its significance, if
any. I probably had many of them, but this is the one I had right before I woke
up.
The place reminded me of where I used to live in North Park
on 38th Street, but it wasn’t the same. I was in the empty house
next door to our old house, looking into my back yard. I was just watching,
trying not to be noticed. There were several people there. I don’t remember
their faces and I couldn’t call out their names, but I felt that they were people
who knew me and were comfortable around me, and I was at easy with them around.
I guess there were like 4-5 people there, just chilling out and talking. Then
one of them saw me and said, “Paul’s pretty mad at you right now. You might
want to leave before he sees you.”
First of all, Paul is, or maybe was, my step-dad. I’m not
sure if they are still married. Here, in this dream, evidently he is still
married to my mom. Secondly, when they said he was mad at me, it wasn’t
surprise. It was as if I knew he would be and understood why, though I could
not tell you now why. In my dream, it was expected.
Some of the people come to me in the house I was in and were
trying to convince me to leave because they didn’t want me to get hurt.
My step dad is a big, ex-marine. His first strike in
California was Assault with a Deadly Weapon, even though the charge was due to
him getting into a fight with another cadet barehanded. He’s the type of person
who is very charismatic and uses diplomacy to convince people to do what he
wants, and when that doesn’t work, he’s even better with intimidation. He’s
punched me before. Not hard—I could tell he held back, just to prove a point. I
knew the danger in having Paul mad at me, but I was still there for some
reason.
Paul came out of the house and saw me and said something. I
don’t remember what he said, but he came after me and I could tell it wasn’t a
happy face he was showing. The people around me were compelling me to go out
the front door, so I did. Paul met me out there, and by this time there were a
bunch of people all around. I don’t remember my mom being there. I was face to
face with him in the middle of the street. He was bouncing around with his
fists up, like a boxer. He was saying some stuff in a way to built it up, I
guess justify, in his mind at least, this fight. He was ready to knock me out.
I said to him, “I’m not afraid of you.” He kept bouncing in and out and mock
swinging while I spoke. I continued talking about him and how he uses
intimidation to bully people around. He kept just bouncing around, ready to
just lay one on me. Then I looked him in the eye and said, “Come on then. I’m
not scared of you. I’m stronger than you. Maybe not physically, but mentally I
am. I can take anything you dish out. But know this, I needed you in my life.
To show me what it’s like to be a man. To show me how to be strong. To prepare
me for life. But you needed me too. To show you how to be real. To show you how
to be sensitive. To know t hat you can be excepted for who you are, not who you
pretend to be. To understand that emotions are not weak. To demonstrate to you
compassion. And I am thankful for our relationship, for we both needed each
other.” While I was talking, he slowed down, and as I got to that part, he
stopped and broke down to tears. I embraced him in a hug and said, “I love
you.” I wasn’t looking around, but I could sense that I was surrounded by blank
stares of disbelief. They were expecting a fight and for me to lose, but once
again, love conquers all. Then I woke up.